THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


PRESENT  PHILOSOPHICAL 
TENDENCIES 


PRESENT  PHILOSOPHICAL 
TENDENCIES 


A  CRITICAL  SURVEY  OF  NATURALISM 
IDEALISM  PRAGMATISM  AND  REALISM 
TOGETHER  WITH  A  SYNOPSIS  OF  THE 
PHILOSOPHY  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES 


BY 


RALPH  BARTON   PERRY 

PROCESSOR  OT  PHILOSOPHY 
IN  HARVARD  UNIVERSITY 


NEW  IMPRESSION 


LONGMANS,     GREEN     AND     CO 

FOURTH  AVENUE  &  30xH  STREET,  NEW  YORK 

39  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  LONDON 

BOMBAY,  CALCUTTA,  AND  MADRAS 

1921 


COPYRIGHT,    1912,    BY 
LONGMANS,    GREEN,    AND    CO. 


All  rights  reserved 

First  Edition,   February,  i«n 

Reprinted,  September,  1912 

Third  Impression,  Revised,  February,  1916 

Reprinted,  October,  1919;  May,  19*1 


DEDICATED  TO   THE  DEAR  AND  REVERED 
MEMORY  OF 

WILLIAM  JAMES 


2041704 


PREFACE 

To  avoid  any  misunderstanding  as  to  the  scope  of  the 
present  book,  let  me  say  at  the  outset  that  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Appendix,  it  is  a  critique,  rather  than  a  history. 
I  have  attempted  not  merely  to  summarize,  but  to  esti- 
mate, present  philosophical  tendencies;  and  my  criticism 
is  throughout  based  on  the  realistic  philosophy  which  I 
set  forth  constructively  only  at  the  end. 

Since  my  method  has  been  critical  rather  than  exposi- 
tory I  shall  doubtless  be  charged  with  having  committed 
the  error  personae,  with  having  attributed  to  certain  writers 
views  which  they  would  not  recognize  as  their  own.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  I  have  in  any  case  formulated  the  views 
which  I  have  criticised,  so  that  the  merits  of  the  question 
may  always  be  in  the  foreground  of  study.  I  have  assumed 
it  to  be  more  important  to  discover  whether  certain  current 
views  were  true  or  false  than  to  discuss  with  painstaking 
nicety  the  question  of  their  attribution. 

Furthermore,  I  realize  that  I  have  given  to  the  several 
tendencies  which  I  have  discussed  the  relative  emphasis 
which  is  characteristic  of  Anglo-American  thought.  This 
appears  in  the  importance  which  I  have  attached  to  the 
blend  of  "critical"  or  Kantian,  with  metaphysical  or 
Hegelian  motives  in  idealism ;  in  my  identification  of  realism 
with  the  "new"  or  non-dualistic  realism;  and  in  the  prom- 
inence which  I  have  given  both  to  realism  and  to  prag- 
matism. The  difference  in  respect  of  distribution  and 


VIII        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

emphasis  between  an  Anglo-American  and  a  Continental 
survey  of  contemporary  philosophy  may  be  observed 
from  a  comparison  of  the  present  volume  with  Ludwig 
Stein's  excellent  book,  Die  Philosophische  Stromungen  der 
Gegenwart. 

Portions  of  the  present  book  are  reprinted  from 
periodicals;  and  I  have  made  due  acknowledgment  in  the 
proper  places.  I  desire  also  gratefully  to  acknowledge 
the  help  of  my  friends  Professor  E.  B.  Holt,  Professor 
E.  G.  Spaulding,  Dr.  M.  P.  Mason,  Dr.  H.  M.  Sheffer,  and 
Dr.  Gunther  Jacoby. 

RALPH  BARTON  PERRY. 


CAMBRIDGE,  September,  xgu. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 
INTRODUCTION 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I.  PHILOSOPHICAL  THEORY  AND  ESTABLISHED  BELIEF  .  3 

§  i.  Discrepancy  between  Theory  and  Belief 3 

§  2.  Theory  and  Belief  as  Forms  of  Knowledge,  Having  the  Same 

Fundamental  Value 4 

§  3.  The  Difference  and  Antagonism  of  Motive  in  Theory  and 

Belief 6 

§  4.  The  Solidarity  of  Belief 10 

§  5.  Galileo  and  the  Inquisition 12 

§  6.  Descartes's  Reconciliation  of  Theory  and  Belief  ...  16 

§  7.  The  Natural  Conservatism  of  Belief.  Present  Tendencies  .  18 

§  8.  The  Need  of  Mediation  between  Theory  and  Belief  .  .  20 

CHAPTER  II.    SCIENTIFIC  AND  RELIGIOUS  MOTIVES  IN  PHILOSOPHY      24 
§  i.  The  Difference  between  Science  and  Religion,  and  the  Am- 
biguous Position  of  Philosophy 24 

§  2.  The  Theoretical  Motive  in  Science 25 

§  3.  Religion  and  the  Motive  of  Belief 28 

§  4.  The  Confusion  of  the  Philosophical  Motive.    The  Place  of  a 

Purely  Theoretical  Philosophy 29 

§  5.  The  Subordination  of  Science  to  Ethics  and  Religion  in 

Ancient  and  Mediaeval  Thought 30 

§  6.  The  Extension  of  Science  to  Religion  in  the  Seventeenth  and 

Eighteenth  Centuries 32 

§  7.  The  Rupture  between  Science  and  Religion,  and  the  Dilemma 

of  Philosophy 34 

§  8.  The  Scientific  Philosophy,  and  the  Religious  Philosophy     .      36 
§  9.  Naturalism  and  Idealism.     The  Rise  of  Pragmatism  and 

Nee-Realism 38 

PART    II 

NATURALISM 

CHAPTER  III.    THE  SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OP  SCIENCE      ....      45 
§  i.  Naturalism  and  Natural  Science 45 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

2.  The  Prestige  of  Science 46 

3.  The  Agreement  between  Science  and  Common  Sense     .  48 

4.  The  Properties  of  Bodies 51 

5.  Explanation  and  Description  in  Science 53 

6.  Conditions  of  Scientific  Description 54 

7.  Illustrations  of   Scientific  Method.    Galileo's  Conception 

of  Acceleration 56 

8.  The  Conception  of  Mass 57 

9.  The  Conservation  of  Energy 58 

§  10.  The  Analytical  Version  of  Scientific  Concepts     ....  60 

CHAPTER  IV.    NAIVE  AND  CRITICAL  NATURALISM 63 

§    i.  The  Two  Varieties  of  Naturalism 63 

§    2.  Three  Characteristic  Philosophical  Errors.     'The  Specula- 
tive Dogma' 64 

3.  'Pseudo-simplicity,'  and  'Indefinite  Potentiality'  ...  66 

4.  Naive  Naturalism.    Bikhner's  Monism  of  Matter    ...  68 

5.  Spencer's  Monism  of  Force 70 

6.  Haeckel's  Monism  of  Substance 72 

7.  Critical  Naturalism 75 

§   8.  The  Sensationalism  of  Karl  Pearson 76 

§    9.  The  Modified  Position  of  Ernst  Mach 78 

§  10.  The  Experimentalism  of  H.  Poincar6 79 

§11.  The  Failure  of  Critical  Naturalism.    The  Priority  of  Logic 

and  Mathematics 82 

CHAPTER  V.    RELIGION  AND  THE  LIMITS  or  SCIENCE      ....  85 

§    i.  Religious  Philosophy  and  the  Limits  of  Science     ...  85 

2.  Naturalism  and  Supernaturalism 88 

3.  The   General    Character   of   Contemporary    Criticism   of 

Science 89 

4.  The  Fallibility  of  Science 91 

5.  The  Disparagement  of  the  Descriptive  Method  93 

6.  The  Ideal  of  Descriptive  Economy 96 

7.  The  Option  of  Hypotheses 98 

8.  The 'Real' Cause  and 'Mere' Description 99 

9.  The  Unreality  of  Space  and  Time.    The  Kantian  Argu- 

ment        100 

10.  Infinity  and  Continuity 103 

11.  The  Priority  of  Consciousness %     .     .  105 

12.  Science  as  a  Limited  Body  of  Truth 108 


CONTENTS  xi 

PART  III 
IDEALISM 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  VI.    THE  CARDINAL  PRINCIPLE  or  IDEALISM    .     .     .     .  113 

§    i.  The  General  Meaning  of  Modem  Idealism 113 

§    2.  Platonic  Idealism,  or  Teleological  Rationalism  ....  114 

§   3.  Rationalism  Purged  of  Teleology  by  Spinoza      .     .     .      .  116 

§   4.  The  Idealistic  Revolution ,.117 

§    5.  The  Beginnings  of  Modern  Idealism.    The  Dualistic  Ver- 
sion of  Knowledge 119 

6.  Berkeley's  Refutation  of  Dualism 122 

7.  Epistemological  Monism 124 

8.  Berkeley's  Proofs  of  Idealism.     '  Definition  by  Initial  Pred- 

ication'    126 

9.  The  Argument  from  '  the  Ego-centric  Predicament '       ..128 
10.  The  Cardinal  Principle  and  the  Berkeleyan  Proofs  in  Con- 
temporary Idealism     .           132 

CHAPTER  VII.    OBJECTIVE  OR  TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM  ...  135 

§    i.  The  General  Meaning  of  Post-Kantian  Idealism      ...  135 

§    2.  The  Sceptical  Crisis  in  Hume 136 

§   3.   Kant  to   the  Rescue.    The  'Categories'  and  'Synthetic 

Unity' 139 

§    4.  Kant's  Relations  to  Idealism 142 

§    5.  Diverse  Tendencies.     'Critical' Idealism 144 

§    6.  Metaphysical  Idealism.     Intellectualism 146 

§    7.  Voluntaristic  or  Ethical  Idealism 150 

§    8.  Neo-Romanticism 152 

§    9.  The  New  Idealism  and  the  Cardinal  Principle     ....  154 

§  10.   The  New  Proof  of  Idealism  from  Synthetic  Unity     ...  156 

§11.  The  Revival  of  the  Berkeleyan  Arguments 158 

§  12.   Objective  Idealism  as  an  Escape  from  Subjectivism     .      .  162 

CHAPTER  VIII.    ABSOLUTE  IDEALISM  AND  RELIGION  .     .  -  .     .     .  164 

§    i.  The  General  Meaning  of  Absolutism 164 

§    2.   Formalism,  Arising  from  the  Logical  Basis  of  Absolutism  .  166 
§   3.  Equivocation    Arising    from    the    Attempt    to    Escape 

Formalism 169 

§   4.  The  Dogmatic  Character  of  Absolutism.    Agnosticism       .  171 
§    5.  Transition  to  Absolute  Idealism.    The  Absolute  Cognitive 

Consciousness 174 

§    6.  Formalism  in  Absolute  Idealism 175 

§    7.   Equivocation  in  Absolute  Idealism 180 

§    8.   Dogmatism  in  Absolute  Idealism 183 


CONTENTS 


§  9.  Summary  of  Idealism.  Idealism  and  Civilization  .  .  .  188 
§  10.  The  Universalistic,  or  Leveling  Tendency  in  Idealism  .  .  189 
|  IX.  The  Virtue  and  the  Extravagance  of  Idealism  ....  192 


PART  IV 
PRAGMATISM 

CHAPTER  IX.    THE  PRAGMATIC  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE     .     .     .  197 

§    i.  The  General  Meaning  of  Pragmatism 197 

§    2.  The  Pragmatist  Conception  of  the  Theory  of  Knowledge   .  199 

§    3.  The  R6le  of  Ideas  in  Knowledge 200 

§    4.  The  Meaning  of  Truth 203 

§    5.  Modes  of  Verification.    Verification  by  Perception  and  by 

Consistency 205 

§    6.  Verification  by  Operation  and  by  Sentiment       ....  207 

§    7.  Verification  by  General  Utility 211 

§   8.  The  Realistic  Version  of  Pragmatism 213 

§   9.  The  Subjectivistic  Version  of  Pragmatism 215 

§  10.  Realistic  and  Subjectivistic  Interpretations.    Satisfaction. 

The  Making  of  Reality 217 

§  ii.  The  Dilemma  of  Pragmatism 219 

CHAPTER  X.    IMMEDIATISM  versus  INTELLECTUALISM 222 

§    i.  Definition  of  the  Issue 222 

§    2.  Non-intellectual  Experience,  or  Immediacy 224 

§   3.  Immediacy  Implied  in  Mediate  Knowledge 225 

§   4.  The  Abstractness  of  Concepts.     "  Vicious  Intellectualism"  228 
§    5.  The  Failure  of  Concepts  to  Grasp  Reality.     Radical  Anti- 

intellectualism 229 

§   6.  The  Failure  of  Anti-intellectualism  to  Understand  the  In- 
tellectual Method.    Concept  as  Function  and  as  Content.  231 
§    7.  The  Confusion  between  the  Relations  of  Symbols  and  the 

Relations  Symbolized 232 

§   8.  The  Supposition  that  Concepts  are  Necessarily  Privative  .  234 

§   9.  The  Misunderstanding  Concerning  Analysis 236 

§  10.  The  Supposed  Superiority  of  the  Immediacy  that  Precedes 

Analysis 237 

§  ii.  The  Subjectivistic  Version  of  Immediatism 239 

§  12.  The  Realistic  Version  of  Immediatism 240 

CHAPTER  XI.    PLURALISM,  INDETERMINISM  AND  RELIGIOUS  FAITH    .  242 
§    i.  Pluralism  as  the  Sequel  to  Empiricism.    The  Additive 

Character  of  Knowledge 242 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

§    2.   Pluralism  and  External  Relations 244 

§   3.  Pluralism  as  a  Philosophy  of  Religion 246 

§   4.  Indeterminism  as  the  Sequel  to  Pluralism 249 

§    5.  Indeterminism  and  the  Reality  of  Time 250 

§    6.  Indeterminism  as  tlje  Sequel  to  Anti-intellectualism.    Will 

as  itself  the  Author  of  Determinism 254 

$    7.  Determinism  as  an  Intellectualistic  Falsification  of  Tem- 
poral Reality 255 

§   8.  Freedom  as  Creative  Activity 261 

§    9.  The  Pragmatic  Theory  of  Truth  Applied  to  Religious  Faith  265 

§  10.  Pragmatism  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Age 267 


PART  V 
REALISM 

CHAPTER  XII.    A  REALISTIC  THEORY  or  MIND 271 

I.  Introductory 271 

§    i.  Realism  as  a  Polemic 271 

§    2.  The  Fundamental  Importance  of  the  Problem  of  Mind     .  272 

II.   The  Method  of  Introspection 275 

§    3.  Mental  Content  as  Revealed  by  Introspection    ....  275 
§   4.  The  Neutral  Elements  of  Mental  Content.    The  Need  of  a 

Unifying  Relation 277 

§   5.  Mental  Action.     The   Alleged  Self-intuition  of  a  Pure 

Spiritual  Activity 279 

§   6.  Mental  Action  as  the  Feeling  of  Bodily  Action     ...  283 

HI.   The  Method  of  General  Observation 286 

§    7.  The  Alleged  Impossibility  of  Observing  the  Contents  of 

Another  Mind 286 

§   8.  The  Difficulty  of  Observing  Mental  Content.    The  Case  of 

Perception 289 

9.  Proprio-ceptive  Sensations 292 

10.  The  Content  of  Desire,  Memory  and  Thought  ....  295 

11.  The  Alleged  Impossibility  of  Observing  Mental  Action     .  297 

12.  Mental  Action  as  Nervous  System 298 

13.  Mental  Action  as  Interest 300 

§  14.   Mental  Content  as  Identified  by  Interested  Action     .     .  301 

§  15.   A  Summary  Definition  of  Mind 303 

CHAPTER  XIII.    A  REALISTIC  THEORY  or  KNOWLEDGE  ....  306 

I.   The  Theory  of  Immanence 306 

§    i.  The  Old  Realism  and  the  New 306 


xiv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

§    2.  The  Duality  of  Mind  and  Body  as  a  Difference  of  Organ- 
ization    308 

§   3.  Representation  as  an  Immanent  Relation 311 

II.   The  Theory  of  Independence 313 

§   4.  The  Half-realisms.    Independence  of  Finite  Knowledge     .  313 

§   5.  Independence  of  Mediate  Knowledge 314 

§   6.  Thorough-going  Realism.      Independence    of    Experience 

or  Consciousness 315 

§    7.  The  Arguments  for  Independence.    The  Negative  Argu- 
ment        316 

§   8.  The  Argument  from  the  Externality  of  Relations     .     .     .  319 
§   9.  The  Argument  from  the  Distinction  between  Object  and 

Awareness 321 

§  10.  The  Argument  from  the  Nature  of  Mind 322 

III.   Truth  and  Error 323 

5  ii.  The  Realm  of  Subjectivity 323 

§  12.  The  Sphere  of  Truth  and  Error 324 

§  13.  Mistaking  and  Right  Judging 326 

CHAPTER  XIV.    A  REALISTIC  PHILOSOPHY  or  LITE 329 

§    i.  Enlightenment  and  Disillusionment 329 

§   2.  Realism  and  the  Dependence  of  Value  on  Desire     .     .     .  331 

§   3.  The  Nature  of  Moral  Value.    The  Right  and  the  Best     .  333 
§   4.  The  Objectivity  or  Absoluteness  of  Value.    Contemporary 

Confusion  of  the  Issue 335 

§   5.  The  Difference  between  the  Absoluteness  an-i  the  Su- 
premacy of  Value 339 

§   6.  Value  as  Cause  or  Determination 341 

§    7.  Freedom,  Positive  and  Negative 342 

§   8.  The  Grounds  of  Religious  Belief 344 

§  9.  The  Hazard  of  Faith 345 

APPENDIX 
THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES 

Philosophy  of  Mind 349 

1.  The  Place  of  the  Problem  of  Mind  in  James's  Philosophy  .  349 

2.  Mind  as  Interested  and  Selective 350 

3.  The  Relational  or  Functional  Theory  of  Consciousness     .  352 

4.  The  Experience  of  Activity 354 

II.   Theory  of  Knowledge 356 

§   5.  The  Function  of  Cognition 356 

§   6.  The  Pragmatic  Nature  of  Truth 360 


CONTENTS  XV 

PAGE 

|   7.  Empiricism 363 

§   8.  Percepts  and  Concepts.    The  Critique  of  Intellectualism  .  366 

III.  Philosophy  of  Religion 369 

§   9.  The  Right  to  Believe 369 

§  10.  Reflex  Action  and  Theism 370 

§  ii.  The  Dilemma  of  Determinism 371 

§  12.  Pluralism  and  Moralism 373 

IV.  Conclusion 375 

INDEX 379 


PART   I 
INTRODUCTION 


PRESENT     PHILOSOPHICAL 
TENDENCIES 

CHAPTER   I 

PHILOSOPHICAL  THEORY  AND   ESTABLISHED 
BELIEF l 

§i.  IT  is  impossible  to  undertake  a  summary  of  philo- 
sophical tendencies  without  being  sensible  of  the  breach 

between  the  philosophy  of  the  schools  and  the 
between*110'  philosophy  of  the  streets,  between  the  latest 
Theory  and  speculations,  hypotheses,  and  definitions  of 

critical  experts,  and  the  general  beliefs  of  man- 
kind. This  discrepancy  is  not  peculiar  to  philosophy. 
There  is  a  similar  difference  between  pure  science  and 
popular  science,  between  political  theory  and  political 
faith  or  tradition.  But  in  neither  case  is  the  difference 
so  confusing  or  disturbing  as  in  the  case  of  philosophy. 
Confusion  between  pure  and  popular  science  is  avoided 
by  the  development  of  an  organized  technique,  which 
makes  pure  science  largely  unintelligible  to  the  layman; 
and  there  is  little  danger  of  a  premature  application  of 
scientific  hypotheses,  because  of  the  material  difficulties 
which  must  be  overcome  before  any  such  hypothesis 
can  be  applied.  The  same  holds,  although  much  less 
certainly,  of  politics.  Political  action  is  based  on  the 
steady  and  widespread  acceptance,  within  a  community, 
of  certain  general  beliefs  that  are  not  immediately  affected 
by  the  fluctuations  of  theory.  And  here  also  the  applica- 
tion of  theory  must,  except  under  extraordinary  condi- 

1  Reprinted,  with  additions  and  alterations,  from  an  article  entitled 
"Theories  and  Beliefs,"  Harvard  Theological  Review,  Vol.  Ill,  July,  1910. 
3 


4  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

tions,  move  at  a  slow  pace  because  of  the  complexity  of  the 
instrumentalities  employed. 

It  may  be  argued  that  the  common  philosophical  beliefs 
are  similarly  protected  and  rendered  stable  by  their  wide 
interpenetration  with  social  interests,  and  by  the  authority 
of  established  religion.  But  the  fact  remains  that  a  philo- 
sophical revolution  is  more  easily  accomplished  than  a 
political  revolution.  The  reason  for  this  lies  in  the  fact 
(^  that  a  philosophy,  unlike  a  polity,  is  an  individual  matter. 
A  man  may  reconstruct  his  Weltanschauung — establish  his 
world  of  thought  upon  a  new  foundation,  and  rearrange  his 
order  of  values  —  without  encountering  any  greater  resist- 
ance than  the  inertia  of  his  own  habits.  And  such  a  revolu- 
tion is  the  more  easily  accomplished  in  an  individualistic  era 
like  the  present,  in  which  the  church  has  relaxed  its  hold 
upon  the  minds  of  men.  If,  then,  there  be  any  practical 
risk  in  the  exposure  of  belief  to  the  variability  of  theory, 
that  risk  will  be  peculiarly  great  in  the  case  of  philosophy. 
And  there  is  also  a  peculiar  liability  to  confusion  here, 
because  theoretical  philosophy  has  never  as  yet  succeeded 
in  developing  a  technique  of  its  own.  The  terms  of  philo- 
,  sophical  research  and  speculation  are  largely  the  terms  of 
religious  belief;  so  that  the  layman  too  readily  identifies  the 
tentative  hypotheses  of  the  investigator  with  the  venerable 
symbols  of  his  faith. 

§  2.  Both  theory  and  belief,  the  new  word  of  critical  spec- 
ulation, and  the  old  assumptions  of  life,  are  forms  of  knowl- 
Theory  and  edge-  And  although  it  is  necessary  that  these 
Belief  as  Forms  forms  should  be  distinguished  and  even 
H^in°gW!hege'  separately  organized,  that  necessity  should 

Same  Funda-  not  blind  US  to  the  fact  that  their  Value  is  fun- 
mental  Value  damentallv  the  same-  That  the  control  of 

nature  through  the  advancement  of  knowledge  is  the 
instrument  of  progress  and  the  chief  ground  of  hope,  is  the 
N^  axiom  of  modern  civilization.  This  is  more  peculiarly  a 
modern  idea  than  is  commonly  supposed.  The  ancient 
world  had  its  dogmatic  and  its  critical  idea  of  progress.  The 


THEORY   AND    BELIEF  $ 

former  was  the  idea  of  national  or  racial  aggrandizement 
by  the  conquest  of  territory  and  the  usurpation  of  political 
control.  The  latter,  contributed  by  the  genius  of  Greece, 
was  the  humanistic  idea  of  the  intensive  cultivation  and 
refinement  of  "human  nature.  These  ancient  ideas  were 
superseded  by  Christian  supernaturalism,  which  referred 
man's  hope  of  salvation  to  another  world  which  might  be 
won  by  the  repudiation  of  this.  As  Christian  Europe 
became  secularized,  there  developed  the  theocratic  idea  of 
a  fixed  system  in  which  all  human  activities  should  be 
limited  and  controlled  by  religious  authority.  Finally,  as 
a  reaction  against  the  established  order,  there  appeared 
the  idea  of  the  Renaissance — an  enthusiasm  for  antiquity, 
and  a  desire  to  reverse  the  course  of  history. 

The  modern  idea,  though  it  borrows  something  from  all 
of  these"ideas,  is  fundamentally  different.  It  bespeaks  a 
solidarity  of  mankind  in  the  enterprise  of  life,  and  in  this 
manifests  its  Christianity;  and  it  derives  from  paganism 
a  respect  for  human  capacities,  and  a  confidence  in  man's 
power  to  win  the  good  for  himself.  But  these  motives  are 
so  united  in  the  modern  spirit  as  to  produce  something 
genuinely  new.  The  good  is  to  be  won  by  the  race  and  for 
the  race;  it  lies  in  the  future,  and  can  result  only  from 
prolonged  and  collective  endeavor;  and  the  power  to 
achieve  it  lies  in  the  progressive  knowledge  and  control  of 
nature.  This  is  the  Baconian  idea.  The  incentive  to 
knowledge  lies  in  its  application  to  life.  "For  fruits  and 
inventions  are,  as  it  were,  sponsors  and  sureties  for  the 
truth  of  philosophies."  C.Therefore,  Bacon  would  have  men 
of  learning  begin  and  end  their  study  with  the  facts  of 
their  present  environment.  I  "  For  our  road  does  not  lie  on 
a  level,  but  ascends  and  descends,  first  ascending  to  axioms, 
then  descending  to  works."  In  the  last  part  of  the  New 
Atlantis  there  is  a  remarkable  description  of  the  riches  of 
Solomon's  House,  the  great  museum  and  laboratory,  the 
treasure  house  and  workshop,  which  was  "the  lantern  of 
this  kingdom."  The  words  with  which  the  father  of 


6  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

Solomon's  House  receives  his  visitors  are  a  terse  and  elo- 
quent summary  of  that  which  Francis  Bacon  prophesied, 
and  which  posterity  has  steadily  achieved.  "The  end  of 
our  foundation  is  the  knowledge  of  causes,  and  secret 
motions  of  things;  and  the  enlarging  of  the  bounds  of 
human  empire,  to  the  effecting  of  all  things  possible."  * 

The  value  of  theory  and  belief  is  in  the  end  the  same. 
Both  are  forms  of  knowledge,  and  knowledge  furnishes 
the  illumination  and  guidance  of  all  conscious  action. 
But,  as  we  shall  now  see,  each  of  these  forms  of  knowledge 
has  also  a  specific  value,  through  which  this  more  funda- 
mental value  is  realized;  and  these  more  specific  values 
require  not  only  a  difference  of  procedure,  but  even  a 
certain  incommensurability  of  terms. 

§  3.  In  an  essay  entitled  "The  Scepticism  of  Believers," 
Leslie  Stephen  remarks  a  common  confusion  between 
The  Difference  WWDeu"ef  and  contrary  belief.  The  term  '  belief ' 
and  is  at  any  historical  moment  almost  invariably 

oSrveTn  used  to  denote  the  established  belief,  that  is, 
Theory  and  the  belief  supported  by  authority  or  by  the 
consensus  of  opinion;  while  the  term  'unbe- 
lief is  used  to  denote  dissent  from  the  established 
belief,  even  when,  as  is  most  often  the  case,  this  dissent 
is  itself  due  to  belief.  The  established  belief  resists 
change,  and  must  be  attacked,  weakened,  or  destroyed, 
before  it  is  possible  for  another  belief  to  get  a  hearing; 
hence  assenters  come  to  regard  dissenters  as  destructive  in 
their  primary  intent,  and  are  blinded  to  the  fact  that  there 
is  another  belief  at  stake,  which  may  be  as  affirmative  and 
constructive  in  its  own  terms  as  that  which  at  the  time  pre- 
vails. Thus  modern  religious  orthodoxy  has  condemned 
as  unbelief  a  certain  secular  tendency  which  really  has 
arisen,  not  from  a  love  of  mischief-making,  but  from  a  most 

1  Bacon :  Philosophical  Works,  Edited  by  Ellis  and  Spedding,  Vol.  Ill, 
p.  156;  cf.  ibid,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  73,  96.  This  reference  to  Bacon  is  in  part  re- 
printed from  an  article  entitled:  "The  Prophecy  of  Francis  Bacon,"  Pop- 
ular Science  Monthly,  Vol.  LXXVII,  May,  1910. 


THEORY  AND   BELIEF  7 

devoted  confidence  in  the  uniformity  of  nature,  and  in  the 
power  of  man  to  save  himself.  It  is  not  wholly  unjust  to 
assert,  as  Leslie  Stephen  does  assert,  that,  in  opposing  the 
free  advance  of  science  and  of  individualism,  defenders  of 
"the  Faith"  have  virtually  sought  to  prevent  or  destroy 
that  faith  in  the  enterprise  of  civilization  which  has  mainly 
inspired  the  progress  of  the  last  two  centuries. 

But  for  our  present  purposes  the  significance  of  this  lies 
not  in  the  issue  between  warring  beliefs,  both  of  which  are 
positive  and  confident,  but  in  the  issue  between  belief, 
which  puts  heart  into  men,  and  that  state  of  suspended 
animation,  of  hesitation,  and  general  impotence,  which  is 
properly  to  be  regarded  as  unbelief.  "The  man  has  most 
faith,  in  the  sense  in  which  faith  represents  a  real  force," 
says  our  author,  "whose  convictions  are  such  as  are  most 
favorable  to  energetic  action,  and  is  freest  from  the  doubts 
which  paralyze  the  will  in  the  great  moments  of  life.  He 
must  have  a  clear  vision  of  an  end  to  be  achieved,  devotion 
to  which  may  be  the  ruling  passion  of  his  life  and  the  focus 
to  which  all  his  energies  may  converge. " l  In  the  present 
discussion,  I  use  the  phrase  'established  belief  to  denote 
faith,  in  this  sense  of  conviction  favorable  to  action;  and  it 
is  my  purpose  to  show  that  the  opposite  state  of  mind, 
unbelief,  or  the  lack  of  convictions  favorable  to  action,  may 
be  induced  by  theory.  Before  theory  can  become  belief  it 
must  be  assimilated  to  a  plan  of  life;  it  must  be  not  only 
asserted,  but  also  adopted.  And  when  belief  becomes 
theory,  it  means  that  an  integral  component  of  some  man's 
plan  of  life  is  withdrawn;  making  it  necessary  that  his 
hand  should  be  stayed,  and  the  plan  suspended,  if  not 
permanently  abandoned.  Without  a  recognition  of  this 
radical  difference  between  theory  and  belief,  unless  it  be 
understood  that  as  moods,  states  of  mind,  or  moments  of 
life,  they  are  almost  antithetical,  one  must  remain  blind 
to  the  real  tragedy  of  heresy  and  doubt. 

The  virtue  of  belief  lies  in  the  application.    Knowledge 

1  Leslie  Stephen,  An  Agnostic's  Apology,  p.  50.-... 


8  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

does  not  become  belief  until  it  is  presupposed  for  the  pur- 
poses of  action.  This  holds  equally  of  the  most  elementary 
common  sense,  of  technical  skill,  and  of  religious  piety. 
Common  sense  consists  of  the  manifold  things  that  can  be 
taken  for  granted  for  the  purposes  of  everyday  life.  Common 
sense  must  be  true  to  be  useful;  but  it  would  still  not  be 
useful  unless  it  were  habitually  and  implicitly  trusted. 
Technical  skill  is  derived  from  science;  but  until  scientific 
principles  are  sufficiently  well  established  to  be  relied  on, 
they  cannot  be  applied.  And  piety,  if  it  be  not  constant,  if 
a  life  be  not  founded  on  it,  is  not  that  good  thing  which  is 
called  religion.  He  who  makes  plans  for  the  morrow,  or 
constructs  a  bridge,  or  prays  to  God,  believes.  There 
is,  then,  a  specific  value  in  belief,  over  and  above  the  value 
of  truth  which  it  must  have  in  common  with  knowledge. 
This  value  is  that  confidence  and  steadiness,  without  which 
no  consecutive  endeavor  is  possible.  And  since  this  is  the 
case,  it  follows  that  there  is  a  legitimate  and  powerful 
incentive  to  belief,'  which  may  be  distinguished  from  the 
love  of  truth.  So  that  they  are  not  wholly  unreasonable 
who  resent  being  robbed  of  their  belief;  or,  seeking  to  have 
it  restored,  pray  God  to  help  their  unbelief. 

Now  it  is  clear  that  theory  can  no  more  take  the  place  of 
belief  than  a  stone  can  take  the  place  of  bread.  Theory 
does  not  directly  nourish  and  sustain  life,  as  belief  does; 
because,  unlike  belief,  it  does  not  suit  the  humor  of  action. 
To  theorize  is  to  doubt.  The  investigator  must  be  both 
incredulous  and  credulous,  believing  nothing,  and  prepared 
to  believe  anything.  While  he  remains  theoretically 
minded,  he  remains  open-minded,  receptive  to  evidence, 
^committing  himself  to  assertions  only  tentatively  or  provi- 
sionally. He  may  be  preparing  foundations,  but  he  cannot 
let  them  stand,  and  hence  is  not  free  to  build  on  them. 
Furthermore,  for  the  very  reason  that  the  theorist  is  not 
expected  to  put  his  theories  into  practice,  he  enjoys  a 
certain  irresponsibility.  To  him  is  allotted  the  task  of 
examining  a  question  on  its  merits,  without  reference  to 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  9 

ulterior  motives.  He  is  permitted  a  certain  play  of  con- 
jecture, a  certain  oscillation  of  mind  between  hypothetical 
alternatives,  that  is  fatal  to  administrative  competence. 
Nor  is  the  theoretical  mind  held  to  those  standards  of 
proportionateness  which  obtain  in  life.  The  scientist  is 
not  infrequently  likened  to  James's  "myopic  ant,"  who 
tumbles  into  every  microscopic  crack  and  fissure,  and 
never  suspects  that  a  centre  exists.  But  fatal  as  such 
procedure  would  be  to  the  proper  conduct  of  life,  it  is  neither 
unworthy  nor  unfruitful  as  an  incident  of  theoretical 
analysis.  Chesterton  has  remarked  that  "a  man  does  not\ 
go  mad  because  he  builds  a  statue  a  mile  high,  but  he  may 
go  mad  by  thinking  it  out  in  square  inches." l  In  the 
latter  case,  judged  by  the  standards  of  social  efficiency,  the 
man  is  mad;  but  his  madness  is  explained,  or  adjudged  not 
madness  after  all,  when  it  is  recognized  that  his  interest  is 
theoretical.  And  a  similar  allowance  is  made  for  a  certain 
difference  of  pace  in  life  and  in  theory.  There  is  a  maxim 
to  the  effect  that  "he  that  will  believe  only  what  he  can 
fully  comprehend,  must  have  a  very  long  head  or  a  very 
short  creed."  In  other  words,  when  theoretically-minded, 
one  proceeds  as  though  life  permitted  of  being  invariably 
guided  by  good  and  manifest  reasons;  whereas  practically, 
if  one  were  to  adopt  such  a  principle,  one  would  never  reach 
the  first  milestone.  Intelligent  living  proceeds  not  by 
doubting,  examining,  experimenting,  and  proving,  but  by 
assuming.  There  is  an  urgency  and  brevity  about  life 
that  makes  it  impossible  that  one  should  give  the  rein  to 
one's  critical  powers  or  weigh  every  affirmation  in  the 
delicate  balance  of  logic. 

I  hope  it  is  clear  that  I  am  not  attempting  to  divide  men 
into    believers  and  theorists.     I   am    distinguishing    not 
between  classes  of  men,  but  between  characteristic  moods    / 
or  states  of  mind.    The  difference,  however,  is  not  so  much  / 
psychological  as  it  is  moral.    There  is  a  different  motive 
in  theory  and  in  belief,  a  different  human  good.    Hence  it 

1  G.  K.  Chesterton,  Orthodoxy,  p.  67. 


10          PRESENT  PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

follows  that  these  moods  may  confront  one  another  dramati- 
cally both  in  individual  life  and  in  the  history  of  society. 
There  is  a  party  of  theory  and  a  party  of  belief,  with  a 
loyalty  to  each.  It  may  be  that  in  our  own  time,  for 
example,  there  is  more  need  of  emphasizing  the  motive 
of  belief.  We  live  in  a  rationalistic  age,  many  of  us  in  a 
rationalistic  fellowship  or  community,  and  incline  to  the 
party  of  theory.  It  is  the  mark  of  such  partisanship  to 
suppose  that  advocates  of  established  belief  are  moved  to 
suspect  or  resist  innovation  only  by  stubbornness  or  inertia. 
On  the  contrary,  conservatism  is  not  less  passionate  than 
radicalism,  nor  less  moved  by  the  love  of  good.  For  the 
advocate  of  established  belief  is  the  advocate  of  established 
life;  of  that  present  adjustment  of  interests  which  is  daily 
tested  and  proved,  and  to  which  the  great  majority  of  men 
are  wholly  and  irrevocably  committed.  It  is  less  enlight- 
ened to  despise  him  as  the  enemy  of  truth  than  to  pay 
him  some  respect  as  the  friend  of  peace  and  order. 

§  4.  We  shall  not  understand  the  strength  of  the  motive 
of  belief,  or  the  part  which  it  plays  in  the  vital  economy, 
The  Solidarity  until  we  recognize  its  corporate  character.  An 
of  Belief  established  belief  possesses  a  value  proportional 

to  the  number  of  interest  invested  in  it.  And  this  solidar- 
ity of  belief  manifests  itself  on  every  scale,  individual,  social, 
and  historical.  It  has  been  said  that  every  man  of  action 
is  a  fatalist.  This  is  due  to  the  need  of  a  permanence  of 
belief,  if  the  several  acts  of  an  individual  life  are  to  contrib- 
ute to  one  end.  A  plan  of  action,  in  proportion  to  its 
scope,  requires  time  and  manifold  agencies  for  its  execution, 
and  must  be  adhered  to  from  moment  to  moment  and  from 
act  to  act.  Every  plan  .pi  action  is  based  on  innumer- 
able assumptions  concerning  the  natural  and  social  environ- 
ment; and  if  these  assumptions  be  questioned,  the  plan  is 
virtually  suspended.  Action  is  efficient  in  proportion  to 
its  range,  and  the  greater  its  range  the  more  necessary  is 
it  that  its  components  should  be  rigid  and  stable.  Assump- 
tions must  be  trusted  implicitly  in  order  that  one  may  be 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  II 

free  to  leave  them  behind  one's  back  and  face  the  work  to 
be  done. 

The  larger  the  enterprise,  the  greater  the  need  of  a  fixed 
orientation,  of  a  view  that  shall  not  dissolve  until  a  thousand 
tributary  agencies  have  been  assembled,  coordinated,  and 
made  jointly  and  cumulatively  to  achieve  the  designated 
end.  It  follows  that  a  steadiness  of  belief  is  more  indispen- 
sable to  social  than  to  individual  action.  Every  variety  of 
cooperation  requires  that  men  shall  occupy  common  ground. 
The  best  partners,  like  the  best  friends,  are  those  who  can--'' 
take  the  most  for  granted.  That  which  is  true  of  every 
lesser  social  enterprise  is  supremely  true  of  politics  and 
religion.  The  arm  of  society  is  the  institution,  and  this 
owes  its  power  to  a  wide-spread  community  of  belief.  The 
institution  is  the  most  delicate  and  complicated  mechanism 
of  life,  constructed  out  of  the  purposes  and  convictions  of 
innumerable  individuals.  And  this  mechanism  cannot 
remain  intact,  and  be  the  instrument  that  it  is  designed  to 
be,  unless  the  parts  be  firm  and  durable.  In  short,  society^ 
could  not  act,  for  the  maintenance  of  order  or  the  promotion 
of  civilization,  if  men's  ideas  were  fluent  and  transitory. 
This  does  not  mean  merely  that  social  action  would  be  ham- 
pered, but  that  any  political  or  organized  community  what- 
soever would  be  impossible.  Unbelief  is  equally  fatal  to  the 
full  benefit  of  religion.  That  benefit  is  realized  only  when 
a  firm  conviction  concerning  the  ultimate  source  of  human 
fortune,  or  the  supreme  object  of  devotion,  dominates  and 
unifies  all  the  varied  activities  of  life.  This  benefit  is  never 
fully  attained;  but  so  far  as  it  has  been  attained,  it  has  u 
given  to  civilization  something  of  the  sweetness  and  vigor 
of  health.  When  science  and  art,  common  sense  and  mysti- 
cal ecstasy,  the  outer  manner  and  the  inner  propensity,  in  all 
men  different  and  yet  in  all  alike ,  do  but  embroider  and  enact 
one  theme,  the  circle  is  closed  and  the  strength  of  man  made 
perfect.  And  such  unanimity  of  imagination  and  enthusi- 
asm, quickening  and  ennobling  the  concert  of  action,  must 
rest  on  unseen  but  deep-laid  foundations  of  common  belief. 


12          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

There  remains  one  further  proof  of  the  solidarity  of  belief. 
If  society  is  to  act  effectively,  it  must  remain  in  agreement 
with  itself  not  only  breadthwise  but  also  lengthwise.  The 
temporal  continuity  of  civilization  is  the  indispensable 
condition  of  progress.  When  fundamental  convictions  are 
altered,  it  is  much  like  moving  to  a  new  planet;  the  work 
must  be  begun  all  over  again.  Apparently  the  conquests  of 
civilization  are  gained  by  swift  and  sudden  victories.  But 
revolution  is  only  the  beginning  of  reformation.  It  is  the 
slow  process  of  reorganization  and  education  that  saves  the 
fruits  of  such  victories,  and  constitutes  that  steady  if 
almost  imperceptible  advance  on  which  the  hope  of  civiliza- 
tion must  mainly  rely.  In  order  that  this  shall  be  possible, 
it  is  necessary  that  beliefs  should  be  transmitted  together 
with  problems  and  opportunities.  Unless  the  burden  is  to 
fall,  the  young  must  not  only  grasp  what  the  old  have  let 
go,  but  they  must  obtain  the  same  foothold. 

There  are,  then,  systems  of  belief  which  condition  effective, 
concerted,  and  progressive  living.  Such  systems,  it  may 
be  further  remarked,  have  their  more  and  their  less  vital 
parts.  There  are  some  beliefs  which,  like  the  keystone  of 
the  arch  or  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  cannot  be  dislodged 
without  overthrowing  the  whole  structure.  If  there  be  a 
good  in  all  belief,  that  good  will  be  greater  in  such  beliefs; 
and  if  there  be  a  motive  which  rallies  men  to  the  support  of 
any  belief,  men  will  be  moved  most  passionately  when  such 
beliefs  are  at  stake.  For  these  are  the  beliefs  most  built 
upon,  to  which  men  are  most  committed,  and  in  which  they 
have  invested  all  their  possessions.  When  they  are  shaken, 
it  is  like  the  trembling  of  the  solid  earth. 

§  5.  Unless,  in  spite  of  all  prepossessions  to  the  contrary, 
in  spite  of  a  justifiable  impatience  with  every  obstacle  to 
Galileo  and  progress,  we  can  see  a  certain  Tightness  and 
the  inquisition  soun(j  loyalty  in  conservatism,  we  shall  remain 
blind  to  the  meaning  of  the  great  transitional  eras.  Thus 
we  are  swift  to  condemn  the  Inquisition  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  the  compromises  of  Galileo  and  Descartes. 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  13 

The  catholic  orthodoxy  of  the  time  has  been  proved  wrong, 
cruelly  and  fatuously  wrong;  and  Galileo  and  Descartes 
doubtless  lost  an  opportunity  of  displaying  the  heroism  of 
Bruno  and  Spinoza.  But  a  powerful  motive  of  the  drama 
will  have  been  reduced  to  a  nullity,  if  it  be  supposed  that 
the  Holy  Office  was  prompted  only  by  malice,  or  Galileo 
and  Descartes  by  cowardice. 

Galileo,1  it  will  be  remembered,  was  convicted  of  holding 
that  the  earth  moved.  This  doctrine  was  declared  to  be 
"absurd,  heretical,  contrary  to  the  text  of  Scripture";  and 
Galileo  was  compelled  to  repudiate  it.  He  defended  him- 
self on  the  ground  that  Scripture  was  not  science.  "  Hence  it 
appears,"  he  said,  "that  when  we  have  to  do  with  natural 
effects  brought  under  our  eyes  by  the  experience  of  our 
senses,  or  deduced  fron  absolute  demonstrations,  these  can 
in  no  wise  be  called  in  question  on  the  strength  of  Scripture 
texts  that  are  susceptible  of  a  thousand  different  interpre- 
tations, for  the  words  of  Scripture  are  not  so  strictly  limited 
in  their  significance  as  the  phenomena  of  nature."2  But 
this  defence  left  out  of  consideration  what  was  referred  to  in 
the  charge  as  the  "absurdity"  and  "heretical"  character 
of  the  new  theory.  It  was  not  its  contradiction  of  Scripture 
texts  that  made  it  dangerous,  but  its  contradiction  of  the 
prevailing  belief.  This  was  definitely  committed  to  the 
immobility  of  the  earth;  and  in  concluding  that  the  Coperni- 
can  theory,  advocated  by  Galileo,  was  a  menace  to  it,  the 
Holy  Office  was  not  mistaken. 

But  why  should  the  immobility  of  the  earth  be  a  cherished ' 
belief,  to  be  protected  by~the  penalty  of  death?  Men  are 
not  soberly  burned  at  the  stake  or  submitted  to  torment 
by  due  process  of  law,  out  of  sheer  bloodthirstiness,  or  on 
account  of  trivial  offences.  It  must  all  appear  childish 
and  wanton,  unless  we  can  learn  to  recognize  the  immense 
human  importance  which  once  attached  to  what  is  now 

1 1564-1641. 

2  Quoted  by  M6zieres,  "Trial  of  Galileo,"  Popular  Science  Monthly, 
vol.  X,  1877,  p.  389. 


14          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

regarded  only  as  an  obsolete  astronomy.  For  it  was  not 
merely  that  men  wondered  how,  if  the  sun  did  not  move, 
Joshua  could  have  commanded  it  to  stand  still;  the 
Copernican  theory  contradicted  the  entire  practical  orienta- 
tion that  dominated  the  imagination  and  justified  the  plans 
of  Christendom.  Never  in  the  history  of  European  civ- 
ilization has  common  sense  been  so  comprehensive  and  so 
4.  highly  unified  as  it  was  in  Galileo's  day.  That  synopsis  of 
heaven  and  earth  which  was  the  theme  of  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy,  and  the  fundamental  thesis  of  St.  Thomas's 
Summa  Theologiae,  was  not  an  esoteric  truth,  but  an  illu- 
ijf  ruination  shared  by  common  men,  and  revealing  to  them  the 
objects  of  their  daily  hopes  and  fears.  The  earth  was  the 
centre  of  a  compact  and  finite  created  world.  It  was  pre- 
pared by  the  hand  of  God  for  man's  habitation,  and  sur- 
rounded by  sun,  moon,  and  stars  for  his  convenience  and 
delight.  God  himself  dwelt  at  the  periphery  of  the  system, 
where  he  could  observe  and  regulate  the  human  drama 
enacted  at  the  centre.  Man's  fall  and  redemption  were  the 
very  theme  of  nature,  the  key  to  its  interpretation;  and  the 
earth  as  the  scene  of  these  transactions  was  its  true  centre. 
Now  let  it  be  remembered  that  this  image  of  nature  was 
vividly  present  to  the  common  mind,  portrayed  in  every 
form  of  art,  repeatedly  implied  in  the  postures  of  religious 
observance,  and  daily  represented  in  common  speech  and 
gesture.  And  let  it  be  remembered,  furthermore,  that  this 
was  an  age  in  which  secular  and  religious  beliefs  were  not 
sharply  divorced;  when  what  men  believed  in  particular 
was  subordinated  to  what  they  believed  on  the  whole,  and 
when,  in  spite  of  a  growing  worldliness,  men  could  never 
wholly  forget  the  saving  of  their  souls.  Is  it  any  wonder, 
then,  that  men  were  shocked  when  they  heard  it  said  that 
the  earth  moved,  that  it  was  only  the  loose  swinging 
satellite  of  a  sun  that  was  but  one  of  many  suns?  When 
the  Christian  imagination  has  never  in  the  centuries  that 
have  followed  been  able  entirely  to  adapt  itself  to  a  decen- 
tralized and  infinite  cosmos,  with  its  limitless  plurality  of 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  15 

worlds,  is  it  any  wonder  that  a  Christian  of  the  early 
seventeenth  century  should  have  been  unable  to  face  such 
a  hypothesis?  For  a  dozen  centuries  Europeans  had  been 
growing  accustomed  to  the  world  of  the  Biblical  and  Ptole- 
maic imagination;  this  was  for  all  practical  purposes  now 
their  world,  in  which  they  had  built  their  home  and  laid 
their  plans,  and  which  was  endeared  to  them  by  every 
tradition  and  association.  Surely,  whatever  the  Inquisi- 
tion may  have  been  guilty  of,  it  was  not  sheer  brutality; 
for  it  was  the  instrument  with  which  this  age  thought  to 
protect  itself  and  every  good  thing  which  it  owned. 

When  I  bring  myself  to  feel  the  force  of  these  considera- 
tions, I  am  convinced  that  the  tragedy  of  Galileo  is  not  so 
simple  as  is  sometimes  supposed.  Neither  he  nor  his 
accusers  could  have  enjoyed  an  undivided  mind.  As  they 
were  not  merely  the  wicked  enemies  of  truth,  so  he  was  not 
merely  a  reckless  iconoclast  forced  to  keep  silence  from 
fear  of  physical  torture.  For  both  must  have  felt  the  con- 
flict between  loyalty  to  the  existing  order  and  assent  to 
theoretical  truth.  The  difference  lay  rather  in  the  relative 
strength  of  the  two  motives.  The  officers  of  the  church  were  -f-  •*- 
in  a  position  of  responsibility;  Galileo,  in  the  quiet  and  isola- 
tion of  the  Belvedere,  could  free  his  mind  from  the  thought 
of  social  consequences,  while  dealing  with  "natural  effects 
brought  under  our  eyes  by  the  experience  of  our  senses." 

After  his  first  trial  Galileo  attempted  to  avoid  the 
charge  of  disturbing  the  common  belief,  by  publishing  his 
astronomical  studies  in  the  form  of  "a  Dialogue  ...  in 
which  are  discussed  the  two  most  important  world-sys- 
tems, .  .  .  without  any  decision  being  arrived  at  between 
them."  l  In  these  dialogues  the  merits  of  both  systems 
are  argued,  with  the  result  that,  while  the  advocate  of  the 
traditional  system  is  the  nominal  victor,  the  evidence  for 
the  Copernican  system  is  actually  more  convincing  to  any 
one  qualified  to  judge.  This  was  undoubtedly  an  attempt 

1  Published  in  1632.  Cf.  H.  Hoffding:  History  of  Modern  Philosophy, 
trans,  by  B.  E.  Meyer,  Vol.  I,  p.  175. 


1 6          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

to  satisfy  the  general  public  by  proclaiming  in  a  loud  voice, 
"The  earth  does  not  move,"  while  at  the  same  time  whis- 
pering to  his  fellow-augurs,  "but  we  know  that  it  really 
does  move."  Galileo  was  by  no  means  incapable  of  such 
a  stroke,  and  it  was  their  resentment  at  what  they  regarded 
as  a  bold  trick  that  inspired  Galileo's  accusers  with  the 
bitterness  which  they  manifested  at  his  second  trial. 
But  taken  in  the  light  of  the  real  conflict  of  motives  which 
Galileo  must  have  felt,  and  in  the  light  of  the  policy  pursued 
by  other  men  by  no  means  so  witty  and  adroit  as  he,  may 
we  not  believe  that  these  dialogues  were  in  part  conceived 
as  a  serious  attempt  to  reconcile  theory  and  belief  ?  Galileo 
was  not  a  revolutionist,  but  he  was  jealous  of  his  scientific 
reputation.  He  wished  to  be  true  to  the  standards  of 
exact  research  and  at  the  same  time  avoid  disturbing 
the  public  peace.  And  so  he  proposed  to  regard  his 
scientific  conclusions  as  "hypothetical,"  meaning  that 
they  were  abstracted  from  belief.  He  thought  that 
science  might  be  permitted  to  go  its  own  way,  and  freely 
entertain  any  idea  that  might  recommend  itself  on  purely 
theoretical  grounds,  provided  that  society  could  be  pro- 
tected from  the  premature  attempt  to  put  such  ideas  into 
practice.  Society  believes,  the  scientist  affirms;  they  do  so 
for  different  motives,  and  with  different  values  at  stake.  It 
would  be  wise,  then,  to  separate  the  theoretical  and  believing 
processes.  They  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  absolutely  separated, 
nor  would  that  be  desirable  even  if  it  were  possible;  but 
they  can  be  regarded  as  different  functions  of  society  and 
prevented  from  directly  interfering  with  one  another. 

§  6.  If  I  am  mistaken  in  attributing  such  reflections  as 

these  to  Galileo,  there  can  at  least  be  no  doubt  in  the  case 

of  Descartes.1    The  news  of  Galileo's  convic- 

Descartes  s 

Reconciliation    tion  in  1633  reached  Descartes  just  as  he  was 

"*  t^ie  act  °*  Puklism'ng  his   &e   Mundo,  in 
which   he    maintained    the    doctrine    of    the 
motion  of  the  earth.     Although,   as   Descartes  himself 
1 1596-1650. 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  17 

afterwards  affirmed,  this  doctrine  was  essential  to  his 
whole  philosophy  of  nature,  he  at  once  abandoned  the 
project.  And  when  he  returned  to  the  topic  in  his 
Principles  of  Philosophy,  he  had  found  a  way  to  reconcile 
his  theory  with  the  accepted  belief.  He  defined  motion 
as  "the  transporting  of  one  part  of  matter  or  of  one  body 
from  the  vicinity  of  those  bodies  that  are  in  immediate 
contact  with  it,  or  which  we  regard  as  at  rest,  to  the  vicinity 
of  other  bodies."  1  Now,  according  to  the  Cartesian  theory 
of  planetary  motion,  the  planet  is  embedded  in  a  fluid  which 
sweeps  vortex-fashion  round  the  sun.  It  follows  that, 
while  the  vortex  does  move,  the  planet,  in  this  case  the 
earth,  does  not  move,  since  it  remains  fixed  in  relation  to 
the  matter  immediately  adjacent  to  it. 

Now  why  should  Descartes  attach  importance  to  what 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  call  a  quibble?  Is  it  merely  a  proof 
of  timidity  and  disingenuousness?  Descartes  was  not,  it 
is  true,  of  the  stuff  of  which  martyrs  are  made;  but  he 
was  nevertheless  a  man  of  more  than  average  courage,  and 
of  eminent  intellectual  honesty.  The  explanation  lies 
elsewhere.  He  did  not  pander  to  his  age  for  purposes  of 
private  advantage;  but  he  did  sympathize  with  his  age, 
and  he  did  desire  practically  to  identify  himself  with  it. 
The  motion  of  the  earth  meant  to  his  age  much  what  the 
abandonment  of  the  institution  of  marriage  or  of  the 
principles  of  democracy  would  mean  to  ours;  it  was  a 
symbol  of  failure  and  of  return  to  chaos.  That  Descartes 
was  profoundly  concerned  at  the  conflict  between  theory 
and  belief,  between  that  intellectual  freedom  which  was 
the  condition  of  truth  and  that  uniformity  of  sentiment 
which  was  the  condition  of  social  stability,  is  proved  beyond 
doubt  by  the  most  personal  of  his  writings,  the  famous 
Discourse  on  Method.  There  he  concludes  that  just  as  when 
we  propose  to  rebuild  the  house  in  which  we  live,  we  must 
nevertheless  occupy  some  quarters  while  the  work  is  going 
on,  so  it  is  necessary  to  believe  practically,  even  when  the 

1  Descartes:  Principles  of  Philosophy  (1644),  trans,  by  Veitch,  p.  345. 


1 8          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

theoretical  judgment  is  suspended.  Descartes  proposes, 
therefore,  to  regulate  his  practice  conformably  to  the 
opinions  of  those  with  whom  he  has  to  live.  And  since 
neither  society  nor  the  individual  can  make  progress  if 
they  are  forever  examining  the  ground  at  their  feet,  he 
proposes  for  practical  purposes  to  adhere  steadfastly  even 
to  doubtful  opinions,  once  they  are  adopted;  "imitating  in 
this  the  example  of  travellers  who,  when  they  have  lost 
their  way  in  a  forest,  ought  not  to  wander  from  side  to  side, 
far  less  remain  in  one  place,  but  proceed  constantly  towards 
the  same  side  in  as  straight  a  line  as  possible,  .  .  .  for  in 
this  way,  if  they  do  not  exactly  reach  the  point  they  desire, 
they  will  come  at  least  in  the  end  to  some  place  that  will 
probably  be  preferable  to  the  middle  of  a  forest."  l 

Galileo  and  Descartes  were  divided  against  themselves 
through  feeling  the  weight  of  two  great  human  motives, 
rationalism  and  conservatism.  Bruno,  Campanella, Ramus, 
and  Vanini,  having  identified  themselves  more  uncom- 
promisingly with  the  first  of  these  motives,  antagonized 
the  second  and  were  overwhelmed  by  it.  The  history  of 
these  six  men  testifies,  not  so  much  to  the  cruelty  and  du- 
plicity of  human  nature,  as  to  the  almost  unconquerable 
resistance  of  an  idea  which  society  has  built  into  its 
foundations. 

§  7.  It  may  be  inferred  from  the  fate  of  these  intellectual 
pioneers  that  established  belief  is  capable  of  taking  care  of  it- 
self. Without  doubt  there  is  a  heavy  inertia  in 

The  Natural  ..  f      ,  .     ,  ,     .  *     „ 

Conservatism  of  belief,  that  saves  it  from  being  too  easily  over- 
Belief.  Present  thrown.  Not  only  are  new  ideas  distrusted  by 
those  whose  enterprises  they  threaten  to  dis- 
credit; but  they  have  difficulty  even  in  gaining  access  to  the 
mind.  They  must  always  meet  and  overcome  the  charge  of 
"absurdity"  that  bespeaks  the  settled  habits  of  common 
sense.  The  author  of  the  Religio  Medici  shows  a  charming 
indifference  to  the  absurdities  of  his  day.  They  are  so  re- 
mote from  common  sense  that  they  may  be  tolerated  without 

1  Descartes:  Discourse  on  Method  (1637),  trans,  by  Veitch,  p.  25. 


THEORY  AND   BELIEF  10 

fear  of  any  consequences  for  life.  "Some,"  he  says,  "have 
held  that  Snow  is  black,  that  the  earth  moves,  that  the 
Soul  is  air,  fire,  water;  but  all  this  is  Philosophy,  and  there 
is  no  delirium."  1  A  recent  writer  tells  us  that  "all  men 
who  have  lived  to  a  certain  age  have  learnt  that  there  are 
certain  facts,  certain  experiences  not  at  all  connected  with 
the  supernatural,  which  they  dare  not  tell  of  for  fear  of 
being  put  down  as  inventors.  .  .  .  Just  as  the  old  woman 
was  ready  to  accept  her  travelled  son's  yarns  of  rivers  of 
milk  and  islands  of  cheese;  but  when  he  deviated  into  the 
truth  she  stopped.  'Na,  na!'  she  said,  'that  the  anchor 
fetched  up  one  of  Pharaoh's  chariot  wheels  out  of  the  Red 
Sea,  I  can  believe;  but  that  fish  fly!  Na,  na!  dinna  come 
any  o'  your  lies  over  yer  mither.'  " 2 

But  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that  common  sense  is  not  to 
be  conjured  with  as  it  once  was.  We  have  grown  first 
accustomed  to  absurdities,  and  then  fond  of  them.  I  am 
not  sure  that  in  our  day  the  burden  of  proof  does  not  lie 
with  the  familiar  fact.  We  expect  to  be  surprised,  and  are 
suspicious  of  a  theory  that  lacks  novelty.  This  has  doubt- 
less always  been  the  case  with  intellectual  radicals,  but  it 
is  fast  becoming  a  general  state  of  mind.  Many  reasons 
may  be  offered  for  the  change.  First  of  all,  it  is  due  to 
the  high  conductivity  of  modern  society.  The  mood  of 
one  individual  is  transmitted  with  incredible  rapidity  to  the 
entire  community.  The  doubts,  conjectures,  and  conclu- 
sions of  theorists  are  promptly  communicated  to  the  public, 
which  straightway  itself  strikes  a  theoretical  attitude. 
Again,  the  general  triumph  of  democratic  principles  has 
made  a  difference  here.  Intellectual  exclusiveness  does 
not  suit  the  temper  of  liberal  societies.  It  must  be  share 
and  share  alike  with  knowledge  as  with  other  commodities. 
The  best  is  none  too  good  for  every  man;  hence  there  can 
be  no  living  on  the  paternalistic  bounty  of  a  class  of  wise 
men.  It  was  once  thought  that  if  the  eyes  of  a  few  were 

1  Sir  Thomas  Browne:   Religio  Medici  (1646),  Temple  Edition,  p.  115. 
*  H.  Fielding:  Hearts  of  Men,  pp.  274-275. 


20  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

opened  they  might  lead  the  rest;  but  now  none  consent  to 
remain  blind.  And,  finally,  the  humanitarian  and  utili- 
tarian sentiment  requires  that  all  knowledge  shall  promptly 
be  put  to  use.  In  order  that  men  may  be  saved  by  it,  or 
the  conditions  of  life  bettered,  or  mankind  be  brought  a 
step  forward,  knowledge  must  be  instantly  worked  into 
life  and  made  to  serve. 

All  these  and  other  tendencies  of  the  day  conspire  to 
produce  an  impatience  and  over-haste  in  belief.  We  suffer 
from  a  new  kind  of  credulity.  It  was  once  complained  that 
men  are  too  easily  inclined  to  believe  what  their  fathers 
believed,  that  men  lack  originality  and  independence. 
But  there  is  now  reason  to  fear  that  men  may  too  easily 
believe  what  no  one  has  ever  believed  before.  Men  with 
'settled  convictions  may  become  as  rare  as  were  free-thinkers 
in  an  earlier  time.  And  the  consequences  must  be  scarcely 
less  detrimental  to  social  welfare  than  the  consequences 
of  the  earlier  complacency  and  narrow-mindedness.  For 
inquisitiveness  and  fluidity  of  mind,  though  they  condition 
the  discovery  of  new  truth,  are  intolerable  in  society  at 
large.  Theory  must  correct  and  enlighten  belief,  but  it 
cannot,  consistently  with  the  conduct  of  any  considerable 
enterprise,  replace  belief. 

§  8.  I  cannot  hope  to  offer  any  general  solution  of  what 
appears  to  be  a  recurrent  and  inevitable  problem.  It  is  of 
The  Need  of  ^  verv  essence  °f  1^ e  ^at  it  should  be  both 
Mediation  be-  conserved  and  changed.  To  belief,  society  owes 
its  cohesiveness  and  stability;  to  theory,  it 
owes  its  chance  of  betterment.  And  since 
every  human  motive  is  liable  to  exaggeration,  society  will 
always  suffer  harm  on  the  one  hand  from  complacency 
and  tyranny,  and  on  the  other  hand  from  reckless  innova- 
tion. Conflict  between  the  mood  of  theory  and  the  mood 
of  belief,  or  between  the  party  of  theory  and  the  party 
of  belief,  will  doubtless  remain  to  the  end  a  source  of  confu- 
sion and  waste.  And  this  conflict  will  be  most  bitter  where 
the  most  is  at  stake;  respecting  those  ideas,  namely,  in 


THEORY    AND    BELIEF  21 

which  society  is  most  deeply  involved.  But  I  think  that 
we  are  justified  in  drawing  certain  inferences  that  are  not 
wholly  insignificant. 

In  the  first  place,  since  there  is  a  virtue  in  belief  that  has 
no  equivalent  in  theory,  it  is  wise  to  surrender  belief  re- 
luctantly. A  due  recognition  of  the  gravity  of  such  a  crisis 
permits  no  other  course.  Some  degree  of  stolidity  and 
inertia  is  a  mark  of  moral  poise.  Nor  is  this  incompatible 
with  intellectual  alertness  and  curiosity.  It  requires  only 
that  one  shall  acquire  reserve,  and  refuse  to  admit  strange 
theories  at  once  to  the  circle  of  one's  dear  convictions. 
Similarly,  conservatism  in  social  action  is  not  incompatible 
with  the  liveliest  and  most  serious  speculation  concerning 
human  institutions;  but  if  this  is  to  be  possible,  society 
must  act  more  slowly  than  the  curious-minded  speculate, 
and  insist  that  ideas  be  long  tested,  and  gradually  absorbed. 

There  is  also  a  certain  obligation  in  this  matter  that  rests 
with  theorists,  and  more  especially  with  those  who  are 
devoted  to  the  examination  of  the  most  fundamental  ideas. 
It  happens,  doubtless  because  these  ideas  have  not  as  yet 
permitted  of  exact  treatment,  that  there  is  here  the  least 
barrier  betweerPtHeory  and  belief.  Political,  social,  and 
philosophical  theory  speak  the  language  of  common  sense, 
using  terms  that  suggest  the  objects  of  daily  life.  It  is  as 
though  the  anthropologist  were  to  allude  to  his  personal 
friends.  But  there  can  never  be  any  exact  correspondence 
between  the  terms  of  theory  and  the  terms  of  belief, 
because  they  are  defined  by  different  contexts,  and  belong 
to  different  systems.  All  the  more  reason,  then,  why 
different  symbols  should  be  employed,  and  the  layman  be 
spared  the  needless  fear  that  his  bread  or  soul's  salvation 
hangs  on  the  fortunes  of  an  argument. 

What  I  have  said  applies  with  peculiar  force  to  the 
philosopher.  No  one  else  debates  such  grave  issues;  nor 
is  there  any  other  region  of  theoretical  inquiry  in  which 
differences  and  fluctuations  of  opinion  are  so  marked.  And 
I  refer  here,  not  especially  to  those  who  proclaim  themselves 


22          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

metaphysicians,  but  to  all  theoretically-minded  persons, 
including  scientists  and  moralists,  who  busy  themselves 
with  ultimate  questions.  It  would  seem  to  follow  that 
society  is  in  special  need  of  avoiding  a  hasty  assimilation 
of  such  theory.  And  yet  the  words  which  it  ordinarily 
employs  are  words  which  symbolize  to  mankind  their  most 
trusted  and  cherished  objects  of  belief.  No  one  has  taken 
the  name  of  the  Lord  his  God  in  vain  so  frequently  and 
so  unconcernedly  as  the  philosopher.  While  philosophers 
dispute,  believers  witness  with  dismay  the  apparent  disso- 
lution, not  only  of  God,  but  of  immortality,  freedom, 
marriage,  and  democracy  as  well.  I  wish  that  philosophy, 
for  theoretical  purposes,  might  speak  a  language  of  its  own, 
and  settle  its  disputes  in  a  vernacular  that  does  not  arrest 
the  attention  of  the  community.  If  this  were  possible, 
philosophy  would  be  better  entitled  to  the  full  benefit  of 
that  immunity  from  direct  social  responsibility  which  is 
most  conducive  to  clear  seeing  and  straight  thinking.  And 
society  could  afford  to  wait  for  the  application  of  a  more 
refined  and  better-tested  truth. 

No  theorist  is  under  obligation  immediately  to  give  so- 
ciety the  benefit  of  his  theorizing.  It  was  said  of  Samuel 
Clarke,  who  sought  to  overthrow  atheism  by  scientific 
argument,  that  no  one  had  really  doubted  the  existence  of 
God  until  he  undertook  to  prove  it.  There  will  always  be 
an  absolute  difference  between  rational  assent  on  theoreti- 
cal grounds,  and  implicit  belief.  The  theoretical  mood, 
even  when  a  conclusion  is  reached,  is  a  state  of  practical 
doubt.  When  the  transition  is  made  from  believing  to 
theorizing,  the  loss  is  certain;  and  he  who  lightly  encour- 
ages such  a  transition  is  guilty  of  recklessness  and  irrespon- 
sibility. It  is  a  grave  matter  to  substitute  one's  own 
v  theory,  however  well-reasoned,  for  another  man's  belief. 
For  the  belief  is  a  part  of  the  believer's  life,  a  condition  of 
the  confidence  and  hopefulness  of  his  action.  It  is  a  mis- 

r  taken  idea  that  honesty  compels  every  theorist  to  be  a 
propagandist;  it  is  true,  rather,  that  in  the  great  majority 


THEORY   AND   BELIEF  *3 

of  instances,  the  sentiment  of  humanity,  and  a  serious 
regard  for  the  well-being  of  society,  require  that  he  shall 
not. 

The  task  of  mediating  between  theory  and  life  is  perhaps 
the  most  delicate  and  responsible  task  which  it  falls  to  the 
lot  of  any  man  to  perform.  And  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
the  theoretical  habit  of  mind  tends  to  disqualify  one  for 
undertaking  it.  For  the  investigator  is  trained  to  neglect 
every  consideration  but  such  present  evidence  as  he  can 
obtain.  The  human  probability  that  his  conclusions  will 
some  day,  perhaps  tomorrow,  be  over-ruled  by  new  evi- 
dence, he  properly  excludes  from  his  consideration.  It  is 
not  relevant  to  his  problem.  But  while  theories  may  be 
changed  with  little  cost  and  with  certain  gain,  this  is  not 
true  of  beliefs.  Here  the  cost  is  more  certain  than  the  gain. 
And  the  very  consideration  which  the  theorist  is  trained 
to  neglect,  and  must  neglect  if  his  mind  is  to  be  free,  is 
here  of  paramount  importance.  He  who  is  to  advise  men 
must  be  the  friend  of  men.  He  must  understand  their 
hopes  and  share  their  responsibilities.  Hence  he  must 
regard  every  idea  with  reference  to  its  effect  on  that  present, 
concrete,  human  state  of  mind,  from  which  all  social  action 
must  proceed.  No  one  has  proclaimed  more  eloquently 
than  Francis  Bacon  that  it  is  to  knowledge  that  man  owes 
his  triumph  over  nature  and.  his  advancement  in  all  noble 
arts.  But  he  would  willingly,  I  think,  have  said  of  estab- 
lished belief,  what  he  said  of  antiquity,  that  it  "deserveth 
that  reverence,  that  men  should  make  a  stand  thereupon  and 
discover  what  is  the  best  way;  but  when  the  discovery  is 
well  taken,  then  to  make  progression." 


CHAPTER  II 

SCIENTIFIC  AND   RELIGIOUS  MOTIVES  IN 
PHILOSOPHY 

§  i.  THE  distinction  between  theory  and  belief  is  of 

the  utmost  importance,  not  only  for  the  understanding  of 

the  relation  of  philosophy  to  life,  but  also  for 

The  Difference      .  ,  ..          .    ,       ,        ,  , 

between  Science  the  understanding  of  the  development  and  pres- 
and  Religion,  ent  meaning  of  philosophical  doctrines  them- 
Anibig^ous  selves.  For  philosophy,  owing  to  its  peculiar 
Position  of  relations  with  science  and  religion,  has  been 

Philosophy  ,   t        ,       , 

governed  by  both  motives. 

There  are  two  fundamental  differences  between  science 
and  religion,  a  difference  of  subject-matter,  and  a  differ- 
ence of  motive.1  Their  difference  of  subject-matter  corre- 
sponds to  the  difference  between  proximate  and  ultimate 
causes.  Physical  science  has  to  do  with  particular  inter- 
relations and  rearrangements  among  facts  of  nature;  relig- 
ion has  to  do  with  the  general  character  of  nature  as  a  whole, 
or  with  whatever  may  lie  beyond  nature  and  still  belong  to 
the  environment  of  life.  Their  difference  of  form  corre- 
sponds to  that  difference  between  theory  and  belief 
which  we  have  just  discussed.  Science  is  the  most  con- 
spicuous example  of  the  method  and  spirit  of  disinterested 
research.  Its  development  has  been  marked  by  the 
purification  of  its  theoretical  motive;  until,  despite  its 
ulterior  usefulness,  it  is  in  its  own  procedure  of  all  human 
activities  the  most  indifferent  to  the  clamor  of  interests. 
N  Religion,  on  the  other  hand,  is  essentially  a  plan  of  action. 

1  The  subject-matter  of  science  will  be  discussed  in  the  next  chapter. 
We  have  here  to  do  primarily  with  its  theoretical  motive. 
24 


SCIENCE  AND   RELIGION  25 

Religion  is  man's  hope  or  despair  of  salvation.  Thus 
while  science  expresses  itself  hi  neutral  or  indifferent  terms, 
the  interests  at  stake  being  eliminated  and  the  application 
being  held  in  reserve,  in  religion  the  application  is  already 
made.  Science  is  a  description  of  its  subject-matter;  re-  \ 
ligion  is  something  done,  something  feared,  or  something 
hoped,  in  view  of  its  subject-matter. 

Philosophy  has  from  the  beginning  served  these  two 
masters.  It  has  attempted  in  the  spirit  of  science,  and 
with  a  like  theoretical  detachment,  to  carry  knowledge 
beyond  the  limits  of  science.  But  it  has  also  attempted 
to  formulate  religious  belief,  giving  articulate  expression 
to  the  religious  emotions  and  elaborating  a  plan  of  salva- 
tion. Philosophy  is  thus  resorted  to  by  two  classes  of 
persons.  By  some  it  is  expected  to  afford  a  rigorous 
theoretical  solution  of  special  problems  that  lie  outside  the 
range  of  the  positive  sciences,  problems  such  as '  conscious- 
ness,' '  space,'  'causality,' '  truth,'  and '  goodness.'  By  others 
it  is  expected  to  furnish  the  age,  or  any  hungering  soul,  with 
a  summary  and  estimate  of  the  world  for  the  purposes  of 
life.  To  supply  the  former  demand,  philosophy  must  be 
technical  and  free  from  ulterior  motives;  while  to  supply 
the  latter,  it  must  be  humane  and  keenly  alive  to  all  the 
deeper  needs  and  passions.  Philosophy  is  thus  at  once  a 
recondite  investigation,  and  a  popular  oracle;  dispensing 
logical  subtleties  to  the  learned  and  homely  wisdom  to  the 
vulgar.  And  in  consequence  of  this  double  office,  philos-^ 
ophers  divide  among  themselves,  and  speak  a  mixed  lan- 
guage. 

§  2.  Science,  as  we  have  seen,  is  by  no  means  exclusively 
theoretical  in  motive.  Indeed  applied  or  popular  science 
The  Theoretical  undoubtedly  precedes  theoretical  science.  The 
Motive  in  liberation  of  the  intelligence  from  immediate 
attendance  upon  action,  and  its  independent 
exercise  in  its  own  interest,  is  a  reward  of  past  service,  as  well 
as  an  opportunity  of  higher  service.  The  intelligence  has 
had  to  earn  its  place  in  the  economy  of  life.  As  a  primitive 


26          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

necessity,  intelligence  is  the  capacity  to  do  the  right  thing 
under  given  circumstances.  The  " right"  act  is  always  rela- 
tive not  only  to  circumstances,  that  is,  to  the  occasion  or 
environment,  but  also  to  some  actuating  interest.  Its 
rightness  consists  in  its  so  meeting  or  modifying  circum- 
stance as  to  satisfy  interest.  Circumstance  will  accord- 
ingly evoke  one  or  the  other  of  two  types  of  right  or 
intelligent  response.  It  will  be  resisted  or  evaded,  disliked 
or  feared,  on  the  one  hand;  on  the  other  hand,  welcomed, 
used,  or  desired.  In  this  immediate  relation  to  life,  then, 
both  causes  and  effects  are  regarded  under  the  aspect  of 
their  maleficence  or  beneficence.  And  from  this  view  of 
nature  it  is  but  a  short  step  to  animism,  or  the  view  that 
natural  causes  are  governed  by  animus.  Certain  typical 
processes  of  the  environment  with  which  one  is  compelled 
to  treat,  are  regarded  as  governed  by  a  consistent  friend- 
liness or  hostility.  The  environment  is  socialized;  and 
the  method  of  conciliation  or  retaliation  is  extended  be- 
yond the  circle  of  human  and  animal  associates  to  the  wider 
realm  of  natural  causes.  In  other  words,  beneficent  causes 
are  construed  as  benevolent,  and  maleficent  as  malevolent. 
Wherever  effects  are  regarded  as  good  or  bad,  and  their 
causes  as  working  good  or  working  evil,  this  is  probably 
always  the  hypothesis  which  is  nearest  at  hand  and  most 
plausible.  It  appears,  long  after  the  development  of 
mechanical  science,  in  the  instinctive  resentment  or  grati- 
tude with  which  one  greets  a  turn  of  fortune.  There  thus 
arises  a  primitive  science  in  which  effects  are  benefits  or 
injuries,  and  causes  friends  or  enemies;  in  which,  in  short, 
natural  events  are  wholly  assimilated  to  life. 

Out  of  this  primitive  science,  mechanical  or  theoretical 
science  has  gradually  developed,  chiefly  through  the  opera- 
tion of  two  motives.  In  the  first  place,  the  method  of  con- 
ciliation and  retaliation  was  experimentally  discredited  as  a 
mode  of  controlling  nature.  For  the  immediate  exigency,  at 
any  rate,  it  proved  more  efficacious  to  cultivate  the  soil  and 
observe  the  turn  of  the  seasons  than  to  sacrifice  to  Demeter, 


SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION  27 

to  keep  one's  powder  dry  than  to  put  one's  trust  in  God. 
In  the  second  place,  as  soon  as  men  could  breathe  more 
easily  and  indulge  themselves  more  freely  in  the  play  of 
their  natural  powers,  they  grew  in  idle  curiosity.  They " 
came,  in  other  words,  to  observe,  regardless  of  their  hopes , 
and  fears.  Astronomy  was  probably  the  first  science  in 
the  modern  sense,  because  the  stars,  at  once  conspicuous 
and  relatively  removed  from  the  theatre  of  action,  have 
always  tended  to  excite  an  apathetic  curiosity.  Through 
the  operation  of  these  two  motives,  effects  were  divested 
of  their  practical  coloring,  and  causes  of  their  friendly  or 
hostile  intent.  This  did  not  mean  that  either  effects  or 
causes  lost  their  bearing  on  life,  but  only  that  that  bearing 
was  for  the  purpose  of  knowledge  eliminated  as  accidental. 
Thus  a  physical  substance  has  certain  distinguishing  prop- 
erties by  virtue  of  which  it  is  either  food  or  poison;  and 
celestial  bodies  compose  certain  configurations  by  virtue 
of  which  man  feels  the  light  of  day  or  the  darkness  of 
night,  the  warmth  of  summer  or  the  blight  of  winter.  But 
it  is  the  mark  of  developed  science  that  these  properties 
and  configurations  are  recorded  without  reference  to 
the  sequel,  and  in  terms  purged  of  the  comment  of 
passion. 

The  development  of  a  purely  theoretical  science  has,  as 
is  well  known,  immeasurably  increased  the  contribution 
of  science  to  life.  In  this  case,  at  least,  the  independence 
of  the  theoretical  activity  is  the  principal  condition  of  its 
usefulness.  The  reason  for  this  is  not  obscure.  In  so  far 
as  knowledge  is  restricted  to  the  service  of  existing  needs, 
it  confirms  the  belief  in  the  finality  of  these  needs;  but  when 
emancipated  from  such  service,  it  becomes  a  source  of  new 
needs  —  stimulating  initiative,  and  opening  a  prospect  of 
unlimited  growth.  The  application  of  knowledge  is  the 
more  varied  and  fruitful  because  reserved  for  the  unfore- 
seen occasion.  It  thus  becomes  the  function  of  science  to 
accumulate  that  unappropriated  surplus  of  intelligence 
from  which  life  derives  its  resourcefulness  and  strategy, 


28          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

and  by  which  it  is  enabled  to  carry  on  the  constructive 
enterprise  of  civilization. 

§  3.  Religion,  like  science,  is  grounded  in  the  need  of 
doing  the  right  thing  under  the  given  circumstance:  like 
Religion  and  science,  it  is  B.  matter  of  adaptation.  It  arises 
the  Motive  of  from  the  need  of  doing  the  right  thing  on  the 
whole,  in  view  of  the  totality  of  circumstance  — 
from  the  need  of  arriving  at  a  final  adaptation.  Religion 
is  the  attempt  to  deal  with  headquarters,  to  obtain  a  hear- 
ing at  the  highest  court,  some  guarantee  of  the  favor  of  the 
over-ruling  authority.  As  theoretical  science  advances 
and  the  phenomena  of  nature  are  referred  to  proximate 
causes,  the  ultimate  causes  retreat  steadily  into  the  back- 
ground, and,  gathered  into  one,  become  God  as  opposed  to 
nature.  The  duality  of  God  and  nature  may  from  thence- 
forth be  characterized  by  any  degree  of  separateness. 
Where  God  is  conceived  transcendently,  or  independently 
of  his  works,  it  is  assumed  that  a  man  may  save  himself  by 
treating  with  God  directly,  giving  no  heed  to  the  course  of 
events  in  the  temporal  world.  Where,  on  the  other  hand, 
God  is  conceived  in  terms  of  the  order  of  nature  and  history, 
as  their  immanent  or  over-arching  unity,  his  favor  may  be 
gained  only  by  complete  adjustment  to  the  ways  of  this 
world. 

Thus  religion,  like  science  at  its  dawn,  views  the  environ- 
ment under  the  aspect  of  its  bearing  on  life.  The  over-ruling 
powers  are  known  and  judged  by  the  good  or  evil  which 
they  work.  But  whereas  this  is  the  primitive  form  of 
science,  in  which  the  scientific  motive  is  not  as  yet  special- 
ized and  refined,  it  is  the  final  form  of  religion. ;  God  is  the 
name  for  the  over-ruling  powers  as  sources  of  fortune.  In 
so  far,  and  only  in  so  far,  as  these  powers  are  regarded  with 
love  or  dismay,  with  hope  or  fear,  do  they  constitute  the 
object  of  religion.  Religion  is  as  essentially  a  matter  of 
life  and  passion,  as  is  science  in  its  developed  form  a  matter 
of  theoretical  detachment.  So  that  science  and  religion 
have  come  to  be  identified,  not  only  with  their  respective 


SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION  2Q 

objects,  but  with  their  respective  forms  of  expression. 
Science,  the  interest  in  the  proximate  causes  of  things, 
becomes  the  unique  example  of  theory:  and  religion,  the 
interest  in  the  ultimate  causes  of  things,  the  unique  ex- 
ample of  belief. 

§  4.  It  is  clear,  however,  that  this  correlation  is  arbitrary. 

Theoretical  science  is  eventually  assimilated  to  life,  and 

finds  expression  in  popular  and  applied  science. 

The    Confusion  _  ,    ^  ,  •  T   7-  e 

ofthePhilo-  In  other  words,  there  is  a  belie]  concerning 
sophicai  MO-  proximate  causes.  And  similarly  there  is  a 

tive.  The  Place      ,  .         •        •»  •  .  ,          ,<•»  i         e 

of  a  Purely  place  for  the  dispassionate  theoretical  study  of 
Theoretical  ultimate  causes.  In  other  words,  as  popular  or 

Philosophy  .  r.r 

applied  science  is  related  to  pure  science,  so 
religion  is  related  to  pure  philosophy. 

If  this  correlation  indicates  the  proper  place  of  philos- 
ophy, then  it  must  be  recognized  that  the  traditional 
philosophy  has  reached  no  such  clear  separation  of  its 
theoretical  motive  as  has  been  reached,  on  its  part, 
by  science.  And  it  may  be  objected  that  the  cases 
are  not  parallel.  There  is  a  reason  why  the  practical 
motive  should  outweigh  the  theoretical  in  the  examination 
of  ultimate  causes.  For  it  is  undoubtedly  the  pressure  of 
practical  necessity  —  the  brevity  of  life,  and  the  momen- 
tousness  of  the  issues  involved  —  which  in  this  case  forces 
a  conclusion  when  the  evidence  must  necessarily  be  in- 
complete. Whereas  in  the  field  of  science  theory  may 
advance  far  beyond  belief,  accumulating  an  ever  increas- 
ing surplus  of  knowledge  over  practice,  here  the  reverse 
is  the  case.  For  the  saving  of  his  soul,  a  man  must  convert 
theoretical  probabilities  into  subjective  certainties:  he 
must  believe  more  than  he  knows.1  In  the  conduct  of  his 
worldly  affairs  he  may  live  within  his  means,  but  in  his 
religion  he  must  run  into  debt.  Thus  a  strictly  theoretical 
conclusion  respecting  ultimate  causes  will  always  be  more 
limited  and  tentative  than  the  corresponding  belief.  And 
belief,  with  its  greater  positiveness,  with  its  daring  and  its 

i  Cf.  below,  pp.  265-267,  345-347,  369-370. 


30          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

air  of  finality,  will  tend  to  obscure  the  cautious  hypothesis 
of  theory,  and  to  fix  itself  in  the  minds  of  men  as  the  only 
expression  of  the  interest  in  ultimate  causes.  That  for 
this  reason  the  work  of  the  human  intelligence  tends  to  be 
divided  between  scientific  theory  concerning  proximate 
causes  and  the  religious  belief  concerning  ultimate  causes, 
cannot  be  disputed. 

But  it  is  evident  that  if  life  is  served  by  a  theoretical 
detachment  in  the  one  case,  the  same  will  be  true  in  the 
other  case.  A  rigorously  theoretical  philosophy,  in  which 
ultimate  causes  are  examined  by  the  method  of  critical 
analysis,  in  which  the  passions  are  repressed  and  the  appli- 
cation held  in  reserve,  affords  the  greatest  promise  of  an 
enlightened,  and  therefore  effective,  religion.  For  the  virtue 
of  belief,  whatever  be  its  object,  whether  it  be  the  particu- 
lar inter-relations  of  the  parts  of  nature,  or  the  ground  and 
constitution  of  nature  as  a  whole,  is  its  truth.  And  the 
speediest  and  most  reliable  access  to  truth  lies  in  the  spec- 
ialization and  rigorous  exercise  of  the  theoretical  method. 
No  faith  will  be  sound  at  the  core  which  does  not  contain 
within  itself  whatever  theory  is  available.  Doubtless  faith 
must  overlap  theory,  as  it  must  be  more  stable  and  con- 
servative; but  the  method  of  faith  cannot  supersede  or 
confuse  the  method  of  theory,  without  corrupting  its  most 
faithful  servant.  Strictly  speaking,  it  is  as  important  for 
religion  to  promote  the  development  of  a  rigorously  theo- 
retical philosophy,  as  it  is  for  engineering  to  promote  the 
development  of  theoretical  physics. 

§  5.  The  present  ambiguous  position  of  philosophy  is  due 

to  the  modern  opposition  of  science  and  religion,  and  to 

this  habit  of  linking  pure  theory  with  science, 

The  Subordina-  ,      .  .  *  ^i         v    •  ™ 

tion  of  Science  and  ultimate  questions  with  religion.  Those 
to  Ethics  and  philosophers  who  are  governed  by  the  theo- 

Religion  in  *    .      .  ^  ,  /n  «.       • 

Ancient  and  retical  motive,  and  to  whom  philosophy  is 
first  of  all  a  disinterested  attempt  at  exact 
knowledge,  tend  to  identify  it  with  science; 

those  on  the  other  hand,  with  whom  the  subject-matter 


SCIENCE  AND   RELIGION  31 

of  philosophy  is  of  paramount  importance,  whose  chief 
object  of  interest  is  the  ultimate  cause  or  world-ground, 
tend  to  identify  it  with  religion. 

But  the  disjunction  between  science  and  religion  is  a 
comparatively  recent  development.  In  ancient  and  me- 
diaeval times  it  was  largely  prevented  by  the  general  accept- 
ance of  the  method  of  teleology.  The  dominant  categories 
of  Greek  thought  were  forged  in  the  Socratic  age,  and 
expressed  its  characteristic  humanism  and  moralism.  The 
Platonic  theory  of  knowledge,  adopted  by  Aristotle,  con- 
tinued by  the  Neo-Platonists,  and  bequeathed  to  Christian 
scholasticism,  was  centred  in  the  conception  of  the  good. 
To  understand  a  thing  was  to  see  the  good  of  it. l  In  so  far 
as  this  theory  of  knowledge  prevailed  there  was  no  inevit- 
able opposition  between  religion  and  science,  other  than 
the  general  opposition  between  tradition  and  enlightenment. 
The  method  of  religion  —  the  interpretation  of  nature  for 
life,  was  also  the  method  of  science.  In  the  application, 
in  the  use  or  value  of  objects,  was  found  also  their  theoreti- 
cal explanation.  The  basal  science,  the  model  of  scientific 
procedure,  was  not  a  physics  which  abstracted  from  life, 
but  an  ethics  which  rationalized  life.  And  where  science 
and  religion  employed  the  same  method,  philosophy  was 
not  compelled  to  take  sides.  It  could  be  at  once  an 
extension  of  science,  and  the  refinement  of  religion.  Phi- 
losophy was  simply  the  sustained  and  systematic  pursuit  of 
wisdom:  the  finishing  of  knowledge,  as  distinguished  from 
the  fragmentariness  of  science;  and  the  grounding  of  belief, 
as  distinguished  from  the  careless  superficiality  and  com- 
placent dogmatism  of  religion. 

The  Platonic  theory  of  knowledge  was  both  retained  and 
reinforced  by  Christianity.  In  Platonism,  teleology  had 
been  derived  from  ethics  and  extended  to  religion;  in 
Christianity,  it  was  originally  derived  from  religion.  But 
there  was  in  both  the  same  priority  of  the  fundamental 
principle  of  life.  Mediaeval  thought,  like  ancient  thought, 
1  See  below,  pp.  115,  167. 


32          PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

was  biocentric  or  anthropocentric.  Nature  was  accounted 
"  for  and  explained  in  terms  of  its  bearing  on  man.  It  was 
grounded  in  the  dispensation  and  providence  of  God  with 
reference  to  the  well-being  of  his  creatures.  The  perfection 
of  the  ultimate  cause,  the  beneficence  of  the  creative  design, 
was  held  to  afford  the  most  truthful  account  of  the  course 
of  nature.  In  short,  theology  displaced  ethics  in  the  sys- 
tem of  knowledge.  And  with  theology  as  the  basal  science, 
it  is  evident  that  there  was  as  yet  no  ground  for  a  radical 
difference  between  science  and  religion.  Nor  was  there 
any  radical  difference  between  either  and  philosophy. 
That  which  theology  understood  by  the  light  of  revelation, 
philosophy  explored  by  the  natural  light  of  reason;  while 
between  philosophy,  and  science  in  the  narrower  sense, 
there  was  no  difference  save  that  between  complete  and 
partial  knowledge. 

§  6.  So  long  as  science  was  thus  dominated  by  the  cate- 
gories of  religion,  philosophy  suffered  no  embarrassing 
The  Extension  necessity  of  taking  sides.  When  this  domina- 
Of  Science  to  tion  came  to  an  end  with  the  decline  of  schol- 
sStrcnthhe  asticism,  an  attempt  was  made  to  keep  the 
and  Eighteenth  peace  upon  a  new  basis.  Whereas  the  cate- 
gories of  religion  had  formerly  been  imposed 
upon  science,  the  categories  of  science,  independently  de- 
rived, were  now  to  be  extended  to  religion.  In  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries  philosophy  derived  its 
impetus  from  the  new  scientific  movement,  and  consisted 
primarily  in  the  attempt  so  to  generalize  the  method  of 
science  as  to  enable  it  to  afford  a  proof  of  the  great  tenets 
of  traditional  belief.  This  common  motive  appears  in 
the  otherwise  widely  contrasted  tendencies  of  these  two 
centuries. 

The  Cartesian  movement,  which  dominated  the  seven- 
teenth century,  was  inspired  by  the  rise  of  mathematical 
physics.  In  mathematics  Descartes  found  a  clearness  and 
cogency  in  which  the  traditional  philosophy  was  notably 
lacking.  It  revealed  to  him  something  of  the  possibilities 


SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION  33 

of  knowledge,  if  the  natural  intelligence  could  but  be  freed 
from  ulterior  motives  and  from  the  heavy  burden  of  accum- 
ulated tradition.  He  was  astonished  "that  foundations, 
so  strong  and  solid,  should  have  had  no  loftier  superstruc- 
ture reared  on  them."  l  Such  a  superstructure  Descartes 
and  his  followers  essayed  to  rear,  adopting  the  "analytical 
method"  from  mathematics,  and  applying  it  to  a  meta- 
physic  of  God  and  the  soul.  This  attempt  culminated  in 
the  system  of  Spinoza,2  with  its  mathematical  terminology, 
its  deductive  order,  its  rigorous  suppression  of  anthropo- 
morphism, and  its  conversion  of  God  into  the  ultimate  and 
indifferent  Necessity. 

The  Baconian  movement,  which  began  coincidently  with 
the  Cartesian  movement,  but  did  not  assume  the  ascend- 
ancy until  the  following  century,  was  inspired  by  the  rise 
of  empirical  and  experimental  science.  Bacon  expressed 
the  spirit  of  discovery  —  the  significance  of  Galileo's  tele- 
scope rather  than  of  his  analytical  laws  of  motion.  Hence 
the  movement  which  emanated  from  Bacon  employed  the  / 
method  of  observation  rather  than  the  method  of  mathe-' 
matical  deduction.  Locke,3  to  whom  the  movement  owed 
its  ascendancy  in  the  eighteenth  century,  was  associated 
with  the  experimental  physicists  of  his  day,  and  was  sus^..-' 
picious  of  a  priori  necessities.  He  proposed  to  pursue 
"the  plain  historical  method."  But  neither  Locke,  nor 
the  Deists  who  followed  him,  had  any  doubt  of  the  possi- 
bility of  establishing  the  truths  of  religion  by  the  method 
of  science.  Christianity  was  not  only  "not  mysterious," 
but  was  proved  beyond  reasonable  doubt  by  empirical 
evidence.  God  was  a  simple  inference  from  effect  to 
cause;  from  the  existence  of  nature  to  the  existence  of  its 
creator,  and  from  the  contrivances  of  nature  to  the  intel- 
ligence of  its  creator. 

During  these  two  centuries,  then,  there  was  no  impassable 

1  Discourse  on  Method,  trans,  by  Veitch,  p.  8. 
1  1632-1677. 
1 1632-1704. 
4 


34          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

gulf  between  science  and  religion,  and  no  dilemma  for  philos- 
ophy. The  philosopher  was  simply  one  who  applied  the 
method  of  science  to  the  subject-matter  of  religion.  Science 
was  opposed  to  religion  only  in  so  far  as  it  was  narrow;  and 
religion  was  opposed  to  science  only  in  so  far  as  it  was  un- 
reasoning. It  was  the  office  of  the  philosopher  to  expand 
the  scope  of  reason,  or  to  justify  faith  by  enlightenment. 

§  7.  The  transition  from  the  thought  of  ancient  and 
The  Rupture  mediaeval  times  to  that  of  the  seventeenth 
/  between  Science  and  eighteenth  centuries,  had  been  marked  by 
and  the*11'  the  rejection  of  anthropomorphism.  The  cen- 
Diiemma  tring  of  the  system  of  knowledge  in  ethics 
of  Philosophy  and  religion  had  been  seen  to  involve  an  ini- 
tial dogma,  which  both  destroyed  the  cogency  of  knowledge 
and  confined  it  within  narrow  bounds.  In  declaring  its  inde- 
pendence, the  science  of  the  Renaissance  had  represented 
the  ideal  of  disinterested  knowledge,  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  necessities  and  facts  without  reference  to  the 
rbias  of  life.  Physics  had  become  the  rallying-point  of  a 
new  army  for  the  conquest  of  the  unknown.  This  new 
campaign  had  presupposed  the  possibility  of  extending  the 
conquest  to  the  great  problems  of  religion.  Faith  and 
authority  had  been  renounced  only  in  the  sure  prospect  of 
getting  a  more  valid  title  to  their  objects. 

But  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  marked  by 
a  new  crisis,  due  to  the  failure  of  this  attempt  to  extend 
physics  to  religion,  and  precipitated  by  the  charge,  made 
by  the  most  eminent  philosophers  of  the  day,  that  the  fail- 
ure was  necessary  and  hopeless.  In  England,  David  Hume l 
argued  the  ambiguity  and  inconclusiveness  of  the  inference 
from  nature  to  God,  showing  that  such  natural  causes  as 
can  be  verified  by  observation  fail  utterly  to  satisfy  the 
demands  of  religion.  On  the  Continent,  Immanuel  Kant 2 

1 1711-1776. 

1 1724-1804.  The  rationalistic  religion  of  Spinoza,  with  its  entire  aban- 
donment of  teleology,  had  already  been  rejected  by  popular  thought,  as 
essentially  irreligious.  Cf.  below  pp.  115-117,  168. 


SCIENCE  AND   RELIGION  35 

confirmed  the  criticism  of  Hume,  and  added  to  it  the 
destruction  of  the  venerable  and  feeble  Cartesianism  of 
his  day;  contending  that  to  deduce  God  from  the  idea 
or  definition  merely,  must  fail  to  establish  his  existence. 
In  other  words,  the  method  of  empirical  science  relying 
on  sensible  fact,  and  the  method  of  exact  science  re- 
lying on  mathematical  or  quasi-mathematical  concepts, 
had  alike  failed  to  justify  religion.  There  resulted  a 
new  division  of  thought,  the  division  broadly  charac- 
teristic of  the  nineteenth  century,  between  the  party  of 
science  and  the  party  of  religion.  And  at  the  same 
time  philosophy  was  confronted  with  the  dilemma  which 
has  made  its  present  position  so  ambiguous.  Apparently 
compelled  to  choose  between  science  and  religion,  it 
has  itself  divided  into  two  parties:  those  who  have  fol- 
lowed science  for  the  sake  of  its  theoretical  motive,  and 
those  who  have  followed  religion  on  account  of  its 
subject-matter. 

The  division  between  the  scientific  philosophers  and  the 
religious  philosophers  was  further  accentuated  by  the 
passing  of  a  certain  type  of  thinker.  The  great  scientists 
and  the  great  speculative  metaphysicians  of  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries  were  in  many  instances  the  same 
individuals.  Such  was  the  case,  for  example,  with  Des- 
cartes, Hobbes,  Leibniz,  and  even  Kant.  M.  Abel  Rey, 
in  La  Philosophie  Moderne,  writes:  "All  the  great  phi- 
losophers were  remarkable  savants,  and  the  great  savant 
never  disdained  to  philosophize.  So  that  one  may  regard 
as  peculiar  and  characteristic  the  complete  separation 
which  existed  for  a  time  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
not  between  the  investigations  (this  is  legitimate  and 
necessary),  but  between  the  investigators."  x  And  the  rea- 
son for  this  lay,  as  M.  Rey  points  out,  not  only  in  the  move- 
ment of  ideas  which  has  just  been  described,  but  also  in 
the  circumstance  that  science  had  become  so  vast  in  bulk 
as  to  exceed  the  capacity  of  any  single  individual.  The 

1  pp.  20-21 


36          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

man  of  all  science  was  replaced  by  the  man  of  one  science, 
confident  of  his  ground  in  proportion  to  the  narrowness  of 
his  field,  and  suspicious  of  all  attempts  to  deal  with  ulti- 
mates  or  finalities.  Unless  the  philosopher  was  himself 
to  become  a  specialist,  and  confine  himself  to  the  categories 
of  one  science,  he  seemed  in  very  self-defense  to  be  com- 
pelled to  adopt  an  independent  method  of  his  own;  a 
method  opposed,  not  to  one  science  in  particular,  but  to 
science  as  a  whole.  And  he  found  that  method  in  religion, 
already  united  with  the  proper  philosophical  subject- 
matter. 

§  8.  Professor  Emile  Boutroux  sums  up  the  admirable 

Introduction  to  his  Science  et  Religion  dans  la  Philosophic 

Contemporaine,  as  follows:  "Science  and  Re- 

Tne  Scientific     ,..,,,  .  ,        ,  , 

Philosophy  and  hgion  had  no  longer,  as  with  the  modern 
the  Religious  rationalists,  a  common  surety  —  reason:  each 

Philosophy  '      .  .  J 

of  them  absolute  in  its  own  way,  they  were 
distinct  at  every  point,  as  were,  according  to  the  reigning 
psychology,  the  two  faculties  of  the  soul,  intellect  and  feel- 
ing, to  which  respectively  they  corresponded.  Thanks  to 
this  mutual  independence,  they  could  find  themselves 
together  in  one  and  the  same  consciousness;  they  subsisted 
there,  side  by  side,  like  two  impenetrable  material  atoms  in 
spacial  juxtaposition.  They  had  agreed  explicitly  or  tacitly 
to  abstain  from  scrutinizing  one  another's  principles. 
Mutual  respect  for  their  established  positions,  and  thereby 
security  and  liberty  for  each  —  such  was  the  device  of 
the  period." l  Corresponding  to  this  dualistic  fashion 
of  thought,  there  appeared  in  the  course  of  the  last 
century  the  scientific  philosophy,  or  positivism,  and  the 
religious  philosophy,  or  romanticism.2  Each  of  these  types 
of  philosophy  was  connected  with  one  of  the  great  destroy- 

*p.  35.  This  book  has  recently  been  translated  into  English  by 
J.  Nield.  Cf.  the  Introduction,  passim. 

1 1  am  using  this  term  to  mean  a  philosophy  in  which  the  spiritual  ground 
or  centre  of  things  is  postulated,  or  accepted  by  an  act  of  faith.  It  is  the 
philosophy  in  which  the  motive  of  religious  belief  is  allowed  to  dominate. 
Cf.  below,  pp.  152-154. 


SCIENCE   AND    RELIGION  37 

ers  of  the  philosophy  of  the  past  —  positivism  with  Hume, 
and  romanticism  with  Kant. 

Hume's  criticism  was  unmitigated.  It  placed  the 
objects  of  religious  interest  absolutely  beyond  the  range 
of  reason.  The  book  of  divinity,  since  it  consists  neither 
of  "abstract  reasoning  concerning  quantity  or  number," 
nor  of  "experimental  reasoning  concerning  matter  of  fact 
and  existence,"  must  be  committed  to  the  flames:  "for  it 
can  contain  nothing  but  sophistry  and  illusion."  l  Comte, 
who  followed  a  century  later,  gave  to  positivism  a  more 
constructive  and  hopeful  turn,  extending  to  mankind  the 
prospect  of  the  limitless  growth  of  science,  and  the  up- 
building of  civilization  through  the  progressive  conquest 
of  nature  and  improvement  of  man.  But  Comte's  con- 
demnation of  the  former  religious  metaphysics  was,  if 
possible,  more  severe  than  that  of  Hume,  for  he  correlated 
it  with  the  infancy  and  childhood  of  the  mind.  Finally, 
with  Herbert  Spencer,  the  metaphysics  of  former  times  was 
formally  tried,  convicted,  and  banished  to  the  realm  of  the 
'Unknowable.'  The  scientist,  whether  mathematician  or 
experimentalist,  was  left  in  absolute  possession  of  the 
sources  of  enlightenment;  he  became  not  only  the  con- 
sulting engineer,  but  oracle  and  wiseman  as  well. 

With  Kant,  on  the  other  hand,  the  negation  of  the  older 
rationalism  paved  the  way  for  a  philosophy  of  faith. 
Although  positive  knowledge  was  restricted  to  the  hie- 
rarchy of  the  physical  sciences,  the  reason  was  left  in  posses- 
sion of  the  necessary  and  valid  ideal  of  the  '  Unconditioned' ; 
while  God,  Freedom,  and  Immortality,  the  objects  of 
religion,  found  their  ground  in  the  moral  will.  Although 
they  might  no  longer  be  judged  true,  according  to  the 
canons  of  theory,  they  must  be  believed  for  the  deeper  and 
more  authoritative  purposes  of  life.  This  provision  of  the 
Kantian  critique  is  the  prototype  of  romanticism,  the 
philosophy  dictated  by  religion.  Romanticism  did  not 

1  Hume:  Enquiry  concerning  the  Human  Understanding  (1749),  Selby- 
Bigge's  edition,  p.  165. 


38          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

seek,  like  the  philosophy  of  the  previous  centuries,  to 
justify  the  articles  of  faith  by  the  procedure  of  science, 
but  to  justify  the  attitude  of  faith,  and  clothe  it  with 
\  authority  in  its  own  right.  Romanticism  involved,  there- 
fore, no  conversion  of  the  passionate  terms  of  religion  into 
the  dispassionate  terms  of  theory;  it  reaffirmed  the  claims 
of  religion  in  the  spirit  and  language  of  religion,  transform- 
ing them  only  in  so  far  as  was  necessary  to  give  them  unity 
and  conscious  expression. 

§  9.  In  positivism  and  romanticism  the  two  motives  of 
philosophy  became  sharply  separated  and  opposed.  Posi- 
tivism is  philosophy  driven  into  the  camp  of 
science  by  loyalty  to  the  standards  of  exact 
Rise  of  Pragma-  research;  romanticism  is  philosophy  merged 
RSeTiismdNe0~  into  religion  through  its  interest  in  the  same 
ultimate  questions.  These  two  tendencies  de- 
termined the  course  of  philosophy  in  the  nineteenth  century; 
and  they  are  represented  today  by  naturalism  and  idealism 
respectively.  In '  naturalism,'  the  positivistic  tendency  de- 
velops in  the  direction  of  a  systematic  materialism,  or 
in  the  direction  of  a  more  refined  criticism  of  scientific 
concepts.  In  '  idealism,'  the  romantic  tendency  amplifies 
and  reinforces  the  theory  of  knowledge  upon  which  it  must 
rest  its  case  —  the  theory  of  the  priority  of  the  forms  and 
ideals  of  the  cognitive  consciousness.  But  the  difference 
between  naturalism  and  idealism,  like  that  between  science 
and  religion,  with  which  they  are  respectively  correlated, 
lies  not  so  much  in  the  disagreement  of  theory  as  in  an 
opposition  of  attitude  and  method.  The  exponent  of 
naturalism  is  governed  by  that  reserve  and  apathy  which 
belong  to  the  scientist's  code  of  honor;  the  idealist  carries 
into  his  philosophy  all  the  importunity  and  high  aspiration 
of  life.  For  him  "the  teleological  standpoint,  that  of  inner 
meaning  or  significance,"  is  "the  standpoint  of  philosophy 
itself."  i 

1  E.  Albee;   "The  Present  Meaning  of  Idealism,"  Philosophical  Review, 
Vol.  XVIII,  1909. 


SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION  39 

To  naturalism  and  idealism  have  latterly  been  added 
'  pragmatism '  and  the  new  '  realism.'  Whether  these  more 
recent  tendencies  represent  the  philosophy  "  qui  commence," 
and  naturalism  and  idealism  the  philosophy  "quifinit,"  will 
be  certainly  known  only  by  those  of  a  later  generation.  At 
present  they  enjoy  no  such  prestige  as  is  enjoyed  by  their 
rivals.  Naturalism  derives  credit  from  the  triumphs  of 
science,  idealism  from  the  loyalties  and  hopes  of  religion. 
Both  pragmatism  and  realism,  furthermore,  have  begun 
as  revolts,  and  the  very  vigor  of  their  protest  testifies  to 
the  strength  of  the  resistance  which  they  must  overcome. 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  their  virility,  and  of  their 
capacity  for  growth. 

Pragmatism  and  realism  are  agreed  in  opposing  both  \ 
the  narrowness  of  naturalism  and   the  extravagance  of   I 
idealism.     Both  seek  to  unite  the  empirical  temper  of  the  / 
former  with  the  latter 's  recognition  of  problems  that  lie 
outside  the  field  of  the  positive  sciences.    They  accept 
neither  the  finality  of  physical  fact  nor  the  validity  of  they 
ideal  of  the  absolute.    Their  differences  are  scarcely  less 
striking  than  their  agreement,  and  may  in  the  end  drive 
them  far  apart.     Pragmatism  is  primarily  concerned  to 
dispute  the  monistic  and  transcendental  elements  of  ideal- 
ism, and  to  construe  life  and  thought  in  terms  of  that 
human  life  and  thought  that  may  be  brought  directly  under 
observation,  and  studied  without  resort  to  dialectic.    But 
life  and  thought  remain   the  central   topic  of  inquiry, 
and  tend  without  sufficient  warrant  to  usurp  the  centre 
of  being.   In  short,   pragmatism  is   never    far    removed 
from  that  dogmatic  anthropomorphism,  that  instinctive 
or  arbitrary  adoption  of  the  standpoint  of  practical  belief, 
that  is  so  central  a  motive  in  idealism.     Realism,  on  the  / 
other    hand,    reacts    not  only    against    absolutism,   but 
against   anthropomorphism    as    well.      Realism    departs 
more   radically    from    idealism   than   does   pragmatism. 
Were  the  dilemma  a  real  one,  pragmatism  would  find 
more  in  common  with  idealism,  and  realism  with  natu- 


40          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES  ^ 

ralism.1  For  realism,  like  naturalism,  detaches  itself  from 
life,  and  attempts  to  see  things  in  their  native  colors 
through  a  transparent  medium.  But  the  dilemma  is  un- 
necessary. It  proves  possible  to  be  both  empirical  and 
rigorous  after  the  manner  of  science,  and  also  emancipated 
from  exclusive  regard  for  physical  fact. 

And  it  is  this  possibility  that  defines  the  opportunity  of 
realism.  There  are  exact  methods  other  than  those  of 
manual  experimentation;  there  are  other  entities  than 
bodies;  and  other  types  of  relation  and  determination 
than  those  of  physics.  There  is  room,  as  we  have  seen,  for 
a  philosophy  that  shall  search  beyond  the  limits  of  science 
for  the  solution  of  those  problems  which  underlie  religious 
faith.  Philosophy  is  rightly  held  responsible  for  the  solu- 
tion of  these  problems;  if  not  in  the  form  of  verified  cer- 
tainty, then  at  least  in  the  form  of  the  most  reasonable 
probability.  But  as  in  the  case  of  science,  so  here  also, 
that  theory  will  best  serve  life  which  abstracts  from  life. 
The  profit  of  religion,  like  the  success  of  any  worldly  enter- 
prise, is  conditioned  by  the  truth  of  the  presuppositions, 
the  correctness  of  the  adaptation,  on  which  it  proceeds. 
What  nature  will  not  tolerate,  nature  cannot  be  made  to 
tolerate  through  any  sheer  assumption  of  superiority. 
Hence  to  cherish  illusions  is  to  buy  a  subjective  satisfaction 
at  the  cost  of  real  failure.  To  know  the  worst,  if  such  it 
be,  is  as  important  as  to  know  the  best;  and  incomparably 
more  important  than  to  dream  the  best.  Religion  is  no 
exception  to  the  rule  that  man  conquers  his  environment, 
and  moulds  it  into  good,  through  forgetting  his  fears  and 
renouncing  his  hopes,  until  he  shall  have  disciplined  him- 
self to  see  coolly  and  steadily.  For  what  he  then  sees 
becomes  thereafter  the  means  through  which  his  fears  are 
banished  and  his  hopes  fulfilled.  It  is  necessary  that 
human  passions  should  be  expressed,  but  their  expression 
is  not  the  function  of  philosophy.  It  is  necessary  to  instruct 

1  Thus  Bergson  the  pragmatist  has  much  in  common  with  a  voluntaristic 
idealism;  and  the  realist,  B.  Russell,  approaches  naturalism.  Cf.  below,  pp. 
345-347- 


SCIENCE   AND   RELIGION  41 

human  passions,  to  illuminate  and  guide  them  by  knowl- 
edge. But  even  this  is  not  the  first  function  of  philosophy. 
For  the  philosopher's  is  the  prior  task  of  seeking  that 
knowledge  itself  from  which  the  passions  may  derive  their 
light  and  guidance. 


PART   II 

NATURALISM 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  SCOPE  AND  METHOD  OF  SCIENCE 

§  i.  BY  naturalism  is  meant  the  philosophical  generaliza- 
tion of  science  —  the  application  of  the  theories  of  science 
Naturalism  and  to  the  problems  of  philosophy.  Both  philos- 
Naturai  Science  Ophy  and  science  have,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
permanent  and  institutional  character.  Each  has  its  own 
traditions,  its  own  classic  authorities,  and  its  own  dev- 
otees. But  naturalism  proposes  to  make  the  institution 
of  science  serve  also  as  the  institution  of  philosophy. 
This  attempted  unification  of  knowledge  is  perennial.' 
Each  epoch  of  European  thought  has  had  its  characteristic 
variety  of  naturalism;  in  which  its  favorite  scientific 
theories  have  been  used  to  satisfy  its  peculiar  philosophi- 
cal needs.  Thus  the  atomic  theory  of  the  ancients,  the 
mechanical  theory  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies, and  the  'energetics'  of  more  recent  times,  have 
each  in  turn  been  presented  in  the  form  of  a  Weltan- 
schauung or  general  view  of  life. 

The  scientist  proper,  the  man  of  special  research,  becomes 
a  naturalistic  philosopher  only  when  he  acts  in  a  new 
capacity.  As  scientist,  in  the  strict  sense,  he  is  non-com- 
mittal with  reference  to  philosophical  problems.  He  adopts 
and  employs  a  technique  which  is  authorized  by  the  con- 
sensus of  experts  within  his  own  field.  His  problems  are 
the  unsolved  problems  of  his  forerunners  and  fellow- 
workers;  his  method,  a  variation  or  refinement  of  methods 
which  have  already  proved  fruitful.  He  is  not  troubled 
by  the  supposed  paradoxes  of  space  and  time,  or  by  such 
problems  as  the  nature  of  causality,  the  unity  of  the 
world,  and  the  meaning  of  truth.  He  moves,  in  short, 
within  intellectual  limits  which  he  does  not  question,  and 

45 


46          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

of  which  he  may  be  even  unconscious.  But  a  scientist  is 
also  a  man,  and  hence  may  readily  become  a  philosopher 
as  well.  In  hours  of  unprofessional  meditation,  his  mind 
may  turn  to  those  more  ultimate  problems  which  are  per- 
petually pressing  for  solution.  And  he  may  then  assert 
that  the  solution  of  these  problems  lies  in  the  application 
of  the  discoveries  of  science.  Such  an  assertion  he  can- 
not prove  in  his  laboratory;  he  can  justify  it  only  after 
the  manner  of  the  philosopher.  The  principal  source  of 
naturalism  lies  in  this  disposition  of  scientists,  not  infre- 
quently men  of  weight,  to  assume  the  r61e  of  philosophers, 
and  to  carry  with  them  into  the  forum  of  philosophy  the 
traditions  and  hypotheses  with  which  they  are  already 
familiar. 

There  is  a  less  evident,  though  scarcely  less  important, 
source  of  naturalism  in  the  popularization  of  science.  When 
science  is  diffused,  and  transmuted  into  the  form  of  common 
v  sense,  it  is  almost  invariably  merged  with  philosophy.  As 
a  rule  it  is  not  substituted  for  theories  emanating  from  philo- 
sophical sources,  but  is  held  along  with  them.  Common 
sense  has  no  nice  regard  for  the  spheres  of  the  several 
branches  of  knowledge,  and  no  repugnance  whatsoever  to 
contradictions.  The  mechanical  and  the  spiritual  theories 
of  man,  or  the  hypothesis  of  cosmic  evolution  and  of  divine 
creation,  are  accepted  in  the  same  sense  and  accorded  equal 
weight;  the  one  being  learned  from  popular  science,  and 
the  other  from  the  pulpit.  There  is,  furthermore,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  a  peculiar  readiness  on  the  part  of  the 
vulgar  mind  to  fall  in  with  the  naturalistic  view  of  things, 
and  to  regard  it  as  prior  to  all  other  views.  For  the  nat- 
uralistic view  is,  in  a  certain  respect,  the  same  as  the 
'practical'  view,  and  has  a  source  in  organic  habit  inde- 
pendently of  the  diffusion  of  science. 

§  2.  Since  naturalism  is  but  science  in  the  rdle  of 
The  Prestige  philosophy,  it  has  during  the  last  century 
of  Science  shared  the  unusual  prestige  which  science  has 
acquired.  Science  has  come  to  stir  the  imagination  of 


SCOPE   AND  METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  47 

men  to  a  degree  that  is  unparalleled.  This  is  due,  in 
part,  to  the  fact  that  every  member  of  a  civilized  com- 
munity uses  the  results  of  science,  and  credits  science 
with  them.  Science  is  credited,  and  justly  credited,  with 
the  enormous  increase  of  convenience,  comfort,  and  effi- 
ciency, which  human  life  has  in  the  last  century  enjoyed. 
Transportation,  manufacturing,  hygiene,  every  activity 
employing  physical  means,  has  been  revolutionized.  And 
this  fact  is  brought  home  to  every  man  in  his  daily  occu- 
pations. The  telephone  with  which  he  orders  his  supplies, 
the  trolley-car  or  automobile  which  he  takes  to  his  place  of 
business,  the  elevator  with  which  he  rises  swiftly  to  the  top 
of  a  towering  structure  of  steel  —  these,  and  a  hundred  like 
items,  testify  perpetually  to  the  glory  of  science. 

Even  more  impressive  to  the  popular  mind  than  the 
applications  of  science,  are  its  discoveries  and  inventions  — 
its  perpetual  novelties.  Here  is  an  enterprise  whose  steady 
advance  can  be  measured.  Knowledge  is  added  to  knowl- 
edge; and  every  increment  opens  new  prospects  of  increase. 
The  miracles  of  yesterday  are  the  commonplaces  of  today. 
Science  thus  commands  attention;  it  stirs  the  blood;  it 
even  makes  news! 

But  there  is  a  deeper  reason  for  the  appeal  of  science  to 
the  popular  mind.  The  recent  advancement  of  science 
has  fulfilled  the  Baconian  prophecy,  of  power  through 
knowledge.  Nature  has  lost  its  terrors.  It  has  submitted 
to  the  yoke  of  human  interests,  and  been  transformed  from 
wilderness  into  civilization.  The  brilliancy  of  scientific 
achievement  has  given  man  a  sense  of  proprietorship  in 
this  world;  it  has  transformed  the  motive  of  life  from  bare 
preservation  to  conquest.  And  so  frequently  has  science 
overcome  the  accepted  limitations  of  practical  achieve- 
ment, and  disclosed  possibilities  previously  unsuspected, 
that  man  now  greets  the  future  with  a  new  and  unbounded 
hopefulness.  Indeed  this  faith  in  the  power  of  life  to 
establish  and  magnify  itself  through  the  progressive  mas- 
tery of  its  environment,  is  the  most  significant  religious 


48  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

idea  of  modern  times.  And  through  its  relation  to  this 
idea  science  has  been  justly  exalted. 

There  is  a  further  explanation  of  the  prestige  of  science, 
and  of  naturalism  as  well,  in  the  distinction  and  popularity 
of  scientific  writers.  The  philosophical  utterances  of  Spen- 
cer, Darwin,  Huxley,  Tyndall,  Du  Bois-Reymond,  Lord 
Kelvin,  Ostwald,  Haeckel,  Arrhenius  and  others,  have  ob- 
tained a  publicity  only  very  rarely  enjoyed  by  the  recog- 
nized leaders  of  philosophy  proper.  The  same  difference 
obtains  between  the  lesser  scientists  and  the  lesser  philos- 
ophers. And  this  is  not  due  to  the  accident  of  individual 
genius,  style,  or  manner.  For  the  popular  mind,  scientific 
ideas  have  an  immediate  intelligibility  and  a  prima  facie 
probability,  which  philosophical  ideas  have  not.  If  we 
can  explain  this  fact  we  shall  have  advanced  far  in  the 
direction  of  a  clearer  understanding  of  what  science  is. 

§  3.  There  is  a  distinction  made  by  logicians  between 

the  denotation  and  the  connotation  of  terms.    A  term  is  said 

to  'denote'  certain  concrete  individuals,  and 

The  Agreement  .  ,  _.  , 

between  Science  to  connote  certain  properties.  Thus  the 
^^ommon  term  'planet '  denotes  Neptune,  Jupiter,  etc., 
and  connotes  the  property  or  relation  of  '  satel- 
lite to  the  sun.'  The  instances  of  a  term  constitute  its 
denotation;  the  meaning  or  definition  of  a  term,  its  conno- 
tation. Now  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  denotation  of 
scientific  terms  is  peculiarly  clear  or  unambiguous  to  com- 
mon sense.  The  instances  of  science  are  readily  identified; 
one  knows  what  the  scientist  is  talking  about.  We  can 
follow  his  eye  to  the  natural  locality  which  he  is  observ- 
ing, or  take  into  our  hands  the  natural  body  with  which 
he  is  experimenting.  When  the  philosopher,  on  the  other 
hand,  discourses  on  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good, 
we  do  not  know  where  to  turn.  If  his  face  were  to  assume 
a  rapt  expression,  and  we  were  sentimentally  or  mystically 
inclined,  we  should  feel  moved  or  exalted.  For  we  take 
such  things  in  good  part  when  seers  and  poets  utter  them. 
Or  were  his  eye  to  twinkle,  we  should  laugh  with  him  — 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  49 

and  feel  relieved.  But  ordinarily  the  philosopher  looks 
as  secular  and  literal  as  any  scientist;  and  in  proportion 
to  the  hardness  of  our  hearts,  we  are  contemptuous  or 
embarrassed.  The  scientist  alone  seems  to  suit  the  word 
to  the  mood  of  serious  discourse.  There  is  evidently  a 
tacit  understanding  between  him  and  common  sense  which, 
in  the  case  of  the  philosopher,  is  wholly  lacking.  Science 
speaks  in  the  native  tongue  of  common  sense;  philosophy 
in  unfamiliar  accents  that  shock  and  mystify. 

The  explanation  of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  science  and 
common  sense  agree  in  unconsciously  accepting  a  classification 
or  map  of  experience  which  it  is  the  business  of  philosophy 
consciously  to  criticise.  This  map  or  classification  is  some- 
times referred  to  as  'the  natural  world-order.'  In  this 
order,  a  thing  is  a  body,  and  the  world  is  the  spacial  field 
and  temporal  sequence  of  bodily  events.  The  instance,  case, 
example,  which  a  word  denotes,  is  always  some  individual 
body  or  group  of  bodies  —  occurring  somewhere,  at  some 
time,  and  capable  of  being  identified  beyond  doubt  by 
gesture  or  manipulation.  To  think  in  these  terms  is  the 
habit  of  common  sense,  and  the  method  of  science. 

The  strength  of  this  habit  is  illustrated  by  the  efforts  of 
the  mind  to  deal  with  things  the  corporeal  character  of 
which  is  expressly  denied.  An  almost  irresistible  propen- 
sity inclines  the  imagination  to  regard  God,  spirit  though 
he  be,  as  having  a  place  in  the  heavens,  whither  at  death 
the  soul  may  resort.  The  soul  itself,  by  definition  the 
antithesis  of  body,  is  nevertheless  commonly  imagined  as  a 
diaphanous  or  subtle  body-within-a-body,  moving  with  the 
mortal  body  before  death,  and  independently  of  it  after 
death.  Similarly,  the  attempt  at  clear  demonstration  al- 
most invariably  impels  one  to  the  use  of  spacial  diagrams. 
And  the  spacial  figure  is  so  interwoven  in  ordinary  speech 
as  to  be  well-nigh  ineradicable.  A  great  difference  is  a 
'wide'  difference,  the  better  is  the  'superior'  or  'higher,' 
the  reliable  is  the  'solid,'  and  the  distinct  the  'tangible.' 

This  habit  of  thought  and  speech  is  not  accidental  on 


50  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

the  part  of  common  sense,  nor  reprehensible  on  the  part 
i  of  science.  For  it  is  the  primary  function  of  the  human 
'•  mind  to  discriminate  and  relate  bodies.  This  function  is 
first  in  order  of  practical  importance.  The  human  mind, 
like  the  heart  and  lungs,  is  an  organ,  calculated  to  assist 
the  adaptation  of  one  body  to  an  environment  of  other 
bodies.  This  function  with  reference  to  other  bodies  is 
not  only  the  mind's  original  function,  but  remains,  during 
a  man's  natural  lifetime,  its  most  indispensable  function. 
11  Our  intelligence,  as  it  leaves  the  hands  of  nature"  says 
Bergson,  "has  for  its  chief  object  the  unorganized  solid. 
When  we  pass  in  review  the  intellectual  functions,  we  see 
that  the  intellect  is  never  quite  at  its  ease,  never  entirely 
at  home,  except  when  it  is  working  upon  inert  matter,  more 
particularly  among  solids  .  .  .  where  our  action  finds  its 
fulcrum,  and  our  industry  its  tools."  l  Intelligence  is  first 
<  of  all  the  attentive  discrimination  of  bodies,  and  a  respon- 
siveness to  their  proximity,  motion,  or  change  of  property. 
And  when  life  becomes  less  preoccupied  with  its  own 
preservation  and  more  largely  engaged  in  constructive 
enterprises,  it  is  on  its  control  of  its  bodily  environment 
that  it  mainly  relies  both  for  security  and  for  power. 
Science  elaborates  and  perfects  this  form  of  intelligence. 
Through  science  it  becomes  methodical  and  exact.  The  use 
of  speech  and  record  makes  it  an  institution  supported  and 
utilized  by  society  as  a  whole;  its  specialization  and  ex- 
pansion beyond  the  demands  of  present  exigencies  renders 
it  a  means  of  resourcefulness  and  initiative. 

Common  sense  and  science  (the  one  unconsciously,  the 
other  with  an  increasing  degree  of  consciousness)  thus 
move  within  the  same  limits.  They  share  the  same  unre- 
flective  classification  of  experience,  employ  the  same  axes 
of  reference,  have  the  same  notion  of  an  individual  thing. 
"This  is  thought's  original  sin,  its  inertia  and  line  of  least 
resistance.  It  is  responsible  for  the  sympathy  between 
common  sense  and  science;  and  for  the  somewhat  strained 

1  Creative  Evoltttion,  trans,  by  A.  Mitchell,  pp.  153-154,  ix. 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  51 

relations  between  both  of  these  and  philosophy,  whose  busi- 
ness it  has  ever  been  to  remind  them  that  their  favorite 
assumption  is  uncritical  and  dogmatic. 

§  4.  We  must  now  attempt  a  more  careful  account  of 
that  common  sense  notion  of  a  thing,  which  is  the  subject- 
The  Properties  matter  to  which  science  addresses  itself,  and 
of  Bodies  which  its  terms  denote.  I  have  as  yet  but 
roughly  indicated  it  by  the  terms  'body'  and  'physical 
event.'  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  either  common  sense 
or  science  should  analyze  this  notion.  They  analyze  one 
body  into  lesser  bodies,  visible  bodies  into  invisible  bodies; 
they  distinguish  and  classify  bodies;  but  they  do  not 
attempt  to  enumerate  the  generic  bodily  properties.  This  is  a 
philosophical  task  which  we  must  undertake  for  ourselves. 

In  describing  the  unambiguous  denotation  of  the  terms 
of  science,  I  have  alluded  to  gesture  and  manipulation  as 
means  of  identification.  A  body  can  always  be  pointed  to, 
or  one  can  'lay  one's  hand  on  it.'  Eliminating  the  acci- 
dental human  reference,  this  means  that  a  body  has  local- 
ity, or  spatial  position.  It  is  somewhere.  But  when  we 
say  'it  is  somewhere,'  we  indicate  that  the  body  does  not 
consist  of  the  position  alone.  There  is  something  which 
is  at  the  position,  or  bears  to  the  position  the  relation  of 
'occupancy.'1  Again,  it  is  essential  to  bodies  that  they 
have  a  history,  and  thus  occupy  time  as  well  as  space.  They 
are  somewhere  at  some  time.  The  relation  of  that  which 
occupies  space  and  time,  to  its  spacial  and  temporal  posi- 
tions, may  be  either  of  two  kinds.  The  spacial  position 
may  remain  the  same  while  the  temporal  position  varies, 
in  which  case  we  speak  of  a  body's  being  at  rest;  or  the 
spacial  position  may  vary  continuously  as  the  time  varies 
continuously,  in  which  case  we  speak  of  motion.2  Finally, 
except  in  the  hypothetical  case  of  material  points,  bodies 

i  The  best  account  of  the  relation  of  space,  time,  body,  and  motion  is 
to  be  found  in  B.  Russell's  writings.  Cf.  "Is  Position  in  Time  and  Space 
Absolute  or  Relative ?"Mind,  N.S.,  Vol.  X,  1901;  and  Principles  of  Mathe- 
matics, Ch.  LI,  LIII,  LIV. 

*  For  the  meaning  of  'continuous,'  cf.  Russell,  op.  cit.,  Ch.  XXIII. 


52          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

always  occupy  several  positions  simultaneously,  and  ac- 
cordingly possess  spacial  extension  and  figure. 

There  is  a  certain  convenience  in  so  distinguishing  '  body ' 
and  '  matter '  as  to  use  the  term  '  body '  to  mean  the  distinct 
individuals  of  the  genus  'matter.'  A  body  is  ordinarily 
regarded  as  that  which  moves  as  a  unit;  as  whatever  por- 
tion of  matter  may  maintain  the  mutual  positions  of  its 
parts  unchanged,  while  their  relations  to  other  positions  are 
changed.  It  is  this  capacity  of  an  extended  unit  to  be 
dislocated  from  its  context,  which  is  ordinarily  regarded  as 
defining  its  boundaries.  And  its  identity  would  then  be 
regarded  as  unaltered  so  long  as  this  independence  of  in- 
ternal on  external  relations  continued.  It  is  not  evident, 
however,  that  the  possibility  of  motion  is  necessary  for  the 
definition  of  an  individual  body.  It  is  strictly  necessary 
only  that  a  region  of  space  should  be  marked  by  some  dis- 
tinguishing character  that  remains  unchanged  through  time. 
Matter,  or  physical  being,  on  the  other  hand,  would  mean 
any  complex  containing  something  occupying  both  space 
and  time.  That  which  occupies  space  and  time  is  indifferent ; 
it  is  the  space-time  occupancy  that  constitutes  its  material 
or  physical  character.1  Matter  is  commonly  used  also  in  a 
narrower  but  not  incompatible  sense,  to  exclude  the  strictly 
spacial  and  temporal  properties.  In  this  sense,  matter  would 
mean  only  whatever  occupies  the  space  and  time,  and  not 
the  whole  complex. 

Summarily  expressed,  then,  we  may  say  that  'physical' 
(bodily  or  material)  connotes  two  sets  of  properties :  spacial 
and  temporal  properties  on  the  one  hand;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  space-time-filling  properties.2  The  former  are 
such  as  latitude  and  longitude,  shape,  date,  and  motion; 
the  latter  such  as  color,  temperature,  and  sound.  The 

i  It  will,  I  think,  be  generally  agreed  that  neither '  hardness '  nor  even 
'  impenetrability '  is  regarded  by  modern  science  as  an  essential  property 
of  matter.  Cf.  Sir  Oliver  Lodge:  Life  and  Matter,  pp.  24-34. 

»  I  do  not  mention  the  more  general  logical,  arithmetical  and  algebraic 
properties,  such  as  'order,'  'number,'  etc.,  because  these  are  not  distinc- 
tively physical.  See  below,  pp.  108-109, 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  53 

former  may  be  said  to  be  the  fundamental  physical  proper- 
ties, because  the  latter  derive  their  physical  character  from 
their  relation  to  the  former.  It  follows  that  physical 
events  —  the  immediate  subject-matter  of  physical  science, 
are  of  two  general  types.  There  is,  first,  the  change  of  spa- 
cial-temporal  properties;  and  second,  the  change  of  space- 
time-filling  properties:  in  short,  change  of  place,  and  change 
of  state.  These  events  it  is  the  task  of  science  to  explain. 
§5.  In  what  sense  does  science  seek  to  'explain'? 
Explanation  is  supposed  to  supply  an  answer  to  the  ques- 
Expianation  tion"Why?"  But  this  interrogative  pronoun 
and  Description  suggests  several  questions  which,  in  the  course 
of  the  development  of  science,  have  proved 
irrelevant  to  its  special  interest.  For  many  minds,  and, 
during  a  considerable  period,  even  for  the  scientific  mind, 
the  demand  for  explanation  has  been  satisfied  by  the  refer- 
ence of  an  event  to  a  power,  regarded  as  sufficient  to  pro- 
duce it.  Thus  before  Galileo's  time,  terrestrial  motions 
were  accounted  for  by  attributing  them  to  powers  of 
"gravity"  and  "levity."  And  similarly  Kepler  explained 
planetary  motions  by  attributing  them  to  celestial  spirits.1 
It  seemed  necessary  to  provide  an  agency  having  a  capacity 
for  effort  as  great  as,  or  greater  than,  the  effect;  and  imme- 
diately present  to  the  effect,  as  the  soul  is  present  to  the 
body  it  moves.  But  Galileo  and  Kepler  have  contributed 
to  the  advancement  of  science  only  because  they  have 
added  to  such  explanation  as  this,  an  exact  account  of 
the  process  or  form  of  terrestrial  and  planetary  motions. 
Just  how  do  bodies  fall  and  planets  move?  This  is  the 
question  which  for  scientific  purposes  must  be  answered; 
and  only  such  answers  have  been  incorporated  into  the 
growing  body  of  scientific  knowledge.  Who  or  what  moves 
bodies,  in  the  sense  of  agency  or  potency,  is  for  scientific 
purposes  a  negligible  question;  attempts  to  answer  it 
have  been,  in  the  course  of  the  development  of  science, 
not  disproved,  but  disregarded. 
i  Whewell:  History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  third  edition,  Vol.  I,  p.  315. 


54          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

And  the  same  is  true  of  another  sense  of  the  interrogative 
'why.'  It  is  not  infrequently  taken  to  mean,  "To  what 
end?"  "For  what  good?"  Thus,  we  are  said  to  'under- 
stand' the  beneficent  works  of  nature,  but  to  'see  no 
reason'  for  vermin,  disease,  and  crime.  Or,  if  we  do  seek 
a  reason,  we  find  it  in  some  indirect  beneficence  that  may 
be  attributed  to  these  things,  despite  appearances.  This 
is  the  teleological  or  moral  type  of  explanation.  It  appears 
in  the  ancient  regard  for  'perfect'  numbers  and  forms,  in 
the  Platonic  principle  of  the  Good,  and  in  the  Christian 
notion  of  Providence.  But  this  species  of  explanation,  too, 
has  been  not  disproved,  but  progressively  disregarded  by 
science.  It  has  come  to  be  the  recognized  aim  of  science  to 
formulate  what  happens,  whether  for  better  or  for  worse; 
leaving  out  of  account,  as  an  extra-scientific  concern, 
whatever  bearing  it  may  have  on  interest.1 

It  appears,  in  other  words,  that  the  common  distinc- 
tion between  explanation  and  'mere  description'  will  not 
strictly  hold  in  the  case  of  scientific  procedure.  For 
science,  to  explain  is  to  describe  —  provided  only  that  the 
description  satisfies  certain  conditions.2 

§  6.  There  are  two  specific  conditions  which  description 
must  fulfil,  if  it  is  to  be  sufficient  in  the  scientific  sense.  In 
Conditions  of  ^ne  nrs^  P^ace>  scientific  description  must  reveal 
Scientific  DC-  the  general  and  constant  features  of  its  subject- 
matter.  It  is  a  truism  that  thought  tends  to 
unify.  The  bare  quale  of  phenomena,  their  peculiar 
individuality,  gives  way  to  certain  underlying  identities. 
Or,  since  natural  science  deals  primarily  with  changes, 
bare  novelty  gives  way  to  an  underlying  permanence.  In 
other  words,  scientific  thought  is  interested  in  what  is  the 
same,  despite  difference,  or  in  what  persists,  despite  change.3 

1  For  this  purely  theoretical  motive  in  science,  cf.  above,  pp.  25-28. 

2  Cf.  E.  Mach:  "  The  Economical  Nature  of  Physical  Inquiry  "  in  his 
Popular  Scientific  Lectures,  trans,  by  T.  J.  McCormack,  p.  186. 

3  As  we  shall  presently  see,  this  does  not  mean  that  science  forces  identity 
and  permanence  upon  an  alien  chaos  or  flux,  but  only  that  science  is  inter- 
ested in  laying  bare  what  identity  and  permanence  is  there. 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  55 

Furthermore,  science  is  interested  in  relating  the  difference 
to  the  identity,  and  the  change  to  the  permanence;  showing, 
so  far  as  possible,  that  the  former  is  a  determinate  variation 
of  the  latter. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  second  condition  which  scien- 
tific description  must  fulfil.  It  must  be  analytical  or  exact  in 
its  final  form.  This  does  not  mean  imposing  such  a  form 
upon  nature  arbitrarily.  Bodies,  as  we  have  seen,  are 
primarily  spacial  and  temporal,  and  both  space  and  time 
possess  what  is  called  'extensive'  magnitude,  such  as 
'number/  'length,'  'breadth,'  'volume,'  'interval,'  etc. 
Furthermore,  the  space-time-filling  properties  of  bodies 
have  a  form  of  magnitude  called  'intensive'  magnitude, 
such  as  'intensity  of  light,'  'degree  of  temperature,'  etc. 
Changes  of  magnitude,  whether  extensive  or  intensive,  can 
be  exactly  described  only  in  mathematical  terms.  And 
underlying  the  strictly  quantitative  characters  of  bodies 
are  certain  more  abstract  characters,  such  as  'relation,' 
'order,'  'continuity,'  an  exact  description  of  which  leads 
likewise  to  a  mathematical  or  logical  formulation.  Where 
such  descriptions  have  been  obtained,  as  in  the  case  of 
physics,  we  speak  of  'exact  science.'  And  such  science 
serves  as  the  model  of  scientific  procedure  in  general. 

Scientific  description,  then,  is  governed  by  two  motives, 
on  the  one  hand,  unity,  parsimony,  or  simplicity,  the 
reduction  of  variety  and  change  to  as  few  terms  as  pos- 
sible; and,  on  the  other  hand,  exact  formulation.  When 
a  scientific  description  satisfying  these  conditions  is  ex- 
perimentally verified,  it  is  said  to  be  a  law.  And  it  is 
certain  that  nothing  more  is  required  for  purposes  of 
scientific  explanation  than  the  discovery  of  the  law.  Whether 
this  is  a  sign  of  the  degeneracy  of  science,  or  of  its  logical 
refinement,  it  will  be  our  task  presently  to  inquire.1  But 
we  shall  be  better  prepared  to  raise  this  question,  and  we 
shall  better  understand  what  has  gone  before,  if  we  now 
turn  to  a  brief  examination  of  certain  samples  of  scientific 

1  See  below,  pp.  93-100. 


$6          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

procedure.  The  philosophical  interpretation  of  science 
turns  not  so  much  upon  special  scientific  laws,  as  upon  the 
general  character  common  to  all  scientific  laws.  And 
this  character  is  most  evident  in  the  case  of  certain  mechani- 
cal laws,  which  are  at  the  same  time  relatively  simple  and 
relatively  fundamental.  I  shall  therefore  attempt  to  show 
briefly  what  is  meant  by '  acceleration,'  'mass,' '  gravitation,' 
and  'energy,'  in  relation  to  the  empirical  facts  which  they 
are  intended  to  describe. 

§  7.  It  has  been  said  that  modern  science  came  "down 
from  heaven  to  earth  along  the  inclined  plane  of  Gali- 
leo."1 Galileo's  importance  lies  not  only  in  his  spe- 
cific contributions  to  mechanics,  but  in  the  example  of 
illustrations  of  ^s  method  —  the  analytical  description  of 
Scientific  motion.  In  order  to  understand  the  concept 
Galileo's  Con-  °^  acceleration,  which  Galileo  employed  for 
ception  of  AC-  the  description  of  a  body's  fall  to  the  earth, 
let  us  begin  with  the  simpler  concepts  which 
it  implies.  Motion,  as  we  have  seen,  means  a  continu- 
ous change  of  place  through  a  period  (also  continuous) 
of  time.  In  other  words,  a  body  is  said  to  move  when 
a  certain  constant  space-time-filling  property  is  corre- 
lated with  a  continuously  varying  distance  (d),  measured 
from  the  point  of  origin,  and  a  continuously  varying 
period  (f),  measured  from  the  moment  of  origin.  The 
scientist,  seeking  to  discover  constancy  even  where  it  does 
not  at  first  appear,  and  to  relate  the  constancy  to  the 
variability,  is  led  to  conceive  of  a  constant  proportion  among 
these  variables.  It  may  be,  e.g.,  that  whereas  d  and  / 
change,  the  fraction  d/t  remains  the  same.  In  other  words, 
whereas  the  distance  and  the  time  vary  severally,  it  may  be 
that. the  ratio,  'velocity'  (v),  is  uniform.  This  does  not 

'Bergson:  Creative  Evolution,  trans,  by  A.  Mitchell,  p.  335.  The 
best  account  of  Galileo's  services  to  science  is  to  be  found  in  Mach's 
Science  of  Mechanics  (translated  by  T.  J.  McCormack).  This  book, 
W.  Ostwald's  Natural  Philosophy,  trans,  by  T.  Seltzer,  and  K.  Pearson's 
Grammar  of  Science,  may  be  consulted  for  a  more  detailed  statement  of 
scientific  concepts. 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  57 

happen  to  be  the  case  with  freely  falling  bodies.  Experi- 
ment shows  that  even  v  varies.  But  the  same  procedure  en- 
abled Galileo  to  define  a  more  complex  ratio,  v/t,  or  the  rate 
of  increase  of  velocity;  and  this  ratio,  called  'acceleration/ 
Galileo's  experiments  showed  to  be  a  constant.  In  other 
words,  v/t  =  g,  where  g  is  the  so-called  constant  of 'gravity/ 
that  is,  of  acceleration  at  a  given  place  on  the  earth's  surface. 

Now  in  this  elementary  mechanical  conception  of  uniform 
acceleration,  appear  all  the  most  essential  principles  of 
exact  science.  It  is  a  description  of  motion,  because  it 
simply  records  the  behavior  of  the  falling  body,  and  does 
not  seek  further  to  account  for  or  justify  it.  It  is  an 
analytical  description,  because  it  expresses  motion  as  a 
relation  of  the  terms,  such  as  d,  t,  etc.,  into  which  it  can 
be  analyzed.  It  is  an  exact  description,  because  the  terms 
and  relations  are  mathematically  formulated.  And  it  is  a 
simplification  and  unification  of  phenomena,  because  it 
has  discovered  a  constancy  or  identity  underlying  bare 
differences.  As  we  proceed  to  more  complex  concepts  we 
shall  not,  I  think,  meet  with  any  new  principles  of  method 
as  fundamental  as  these. 

§  8.  Galileo's  constant  of  acceleration  describes  bodies 
falling  to  the  earth  at  a  given  place.  The  earth  is  taken  as  a 
The  Conception  unique  individual,  and  the  difference  between 
of  Mass  terrestial  and  celestial  motions  is  left  unrelieved. 

But  is  it  not  possible  to  regard  the  earth  as  a  special  case 
of  some  more  general  concept?  Galileo  regarded  accelera- 
tion as  the  evidence  of '  force.'  The  fact  that  bodies  moving 
in  relation  to  the  earth  are  accelerated  to  it  in  a  fixed 
measure,  can  be  expressed  by  saying  that  the  earth  exerts 
a  fixed  force  upon  other  bodies.  But  why  should  not  other 
bodies  also,  in  different  but  determinable  degrees,  exert 
force,  that  is,  induce  accelerations  in  their  neighbors?  In 
other  words,  why  should  force  not  be  regarded  as  a  general 
property  of  bodies,  and  g,  or  the  acceleration  referred  to 
the  earth,  as  only  a  special  value  of  this  property?  It 
would  then  follow  that  the  falling  body  would  exert  force 


58  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

on,  or  induce  acceleration  in,  the  earth;  and  that  the  earth 
would  sustain  like  relations  with  other  celestial  bodies. 
There  would  then  be  a  quantity  possessed  by  every  body, 
which  would  be  the  ratio  of  the  acceleration  it  induced 
in  another  body  to  the  acceleration  which  the  other  in- 
duced in  it.     Thus  bodies  Ql  and  Q*  being  accelerated 
towards  one  another,  there  would  be  a  ratio, 
acceleration  of  Q2  to  Ql 
acceleration  of  Q1  to  Q2 

This  is  the  mass  of  Q1  relatively  to  Q2  as  a  standard,  and 
so  far  as  the  motions  of  Q1  as  a  unit  are  concerned,  it  is 
a  constant. 

Mass,  in  other  words,  is  the  fixed  ratio  of  acceleration 
which  a  body  possesses  in  relation  to  each  other  body 
or  to  some  standard  body.  In  the  Newtonian  mechanics 
this  generalization  of  Galileo's  conception  is  finally  extended 
to  the  determination  of  the  actual  accelerations  of  any  two 
bodies,  in  terms  of  their  masses  (m,ml),  their  distance  (r), 
and  a  fixed  number  (c),  the  so-called  constant  of  gravita- 
tion. The  formula  for  gravitation  is  thus  expressed, 

mm> 

f~   '~7" 

By  the  aid  of  the  principle  of  the  parallelogram  of 
forces,  which  makes  it  possible  to  analyze  the  present 
orbits  of  the  stars  into  component  rectilinear  motions,  this 
formula  brings  celestial  as  well  as  terrestrial  motions  into 
one  system,  in  which  every  body  or  configuration  of  bodies 
possesses  an  amount  of  motion  exactly  calculable  in  terms 
of  the  balance  of  the  system.  And  this  system  means  no 
more  than  the  most  simple  and  exact  description  of  bodily 
motions  that  is  verified  by  the  facts  of  observation. 

§  9.  But  as  yet  we  have  dealt  only  with  those  concepts 
and  formulas  which  describe  the  motions  of  bodies.  What 
The  Conserva-  of  the  change  of  the  space- time-filling  prop- 

tion  of  Energy      erties>   such   as  heat)   ftg^   etcp      Js   there   any 

underlying   identity    or   permanence    that    relates    such 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  59 

changes  to  motion  and  to  one  another?  The  answer  of 
science  is  found  in  the  conception  of  the  conservation  of 
energy.1 

This  principle  is  derived  historically  from  the  Newtonian 
formula  ps  =  \  mv2;  where  ps,  the  product  of  force  (p ), 
and  distance  (s),  is  the  symbol  for  'work,'  and  |  miP,  a 
function  of  mass  (m)  and  velocity  (z>),  is  the  symbol  for 
vis  viva,  afterwards  '  kinetic  energy.'  A  body  held  at  a 
certain  distance  from  the  earth's  surface  will,  if  allowed  to 
fall,  acquire  a  certain  kinetic  energy  (^mv2),  proportional 
to  the  distance  and  the  force  exerted  by  the  earth  (ps). 
In  that  the  falling  body  will  acquire  this  kinetic  energy 
by  virtue  of  being  simply  allowed  to  fall,  it  is  said  to 
possess  'potential  energy'  (P)  in  its  initial  position. 
As  the  body  falls,  this  potential  energy  decreases  and  is 
proportionally  replaced  by  kinetic  energy.  Suppose  the 
body  to  be  suspended  by  a  string,  and  to  swing  from  a 
horizontal  position.  Then,  when  it  has  fallen  as  far  as 
the  string  permits,  it  will  ascend  again  to  the  same  height 
above  the  earth's  surface.  In  other  words,  having  first 
lost  potential  energy  to  the  extent  of  its  vertical  fall,  and 
gained  kinetic  energy  in  its  place,  it  will  now  reverse 
the  process,  and  lose  kinetic  energy  while  it  gains  poten- 
tial energy.  In  other  words,  %  mv2  +  P  =  c;  that  is,  the 
sum  of  its  kinetic  and  its  potential  energies  is  constant, 
or  its  energy  is  conserved. 

But  now  suppose  that  the  string  is  cut,  and  the  body 
allowed  to  fall  freely.  When  it  strikes  the  earth  it  possesses 
a  quantity  of  kinetic  energy  sufficient  under  the  right 
conditions  to  enable  it  to  recover  its  original  potential 
energy.  In  this  case,  however,  no  such  reverse  motion 
takes  place;  there  is,  supposing  the  bodies  to  be  inelastic, 
simply  an  apparent  disappearance  of  motion,  accompanied 
by  an  increase  of  heat.  Now  the  real  fruitfulness  of  the 
principle  of  energy  lies  in  the  possibility  of  regarding  this 

1  For  this  conception,  consult  Mach:  "On  the  Principle  of  the  Con- 
servation of  Energy,"  Popular  Scientific  Lectures,  p.  137. 


60  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

increase  of  heat  as  analogous  to  the  regaining  of  its  origi- 
nal potential  energy.1  If  the  analogy  held  this  would 
mean  that  in  the  new  system  the  sum  of  kinetic  energy 
and  heat  would  be  a  constant;  or  that  the  amount  of  heat 
replacing  the  lost  kinetic  energy  would  in  turn  yield  the 
same  amount  of  kinetic  energy.  And  experiment  has 
proved  this  to  be  the  case.  Similarly,  it  has  been  dis- 
covered that  kinetic  energy  can  be  reciprocally  and  con- 
servatively converted  into  light,  electricity,  etc. 

When  thus  expressed,  energy,  like  mass,  is  a  ratio.  It 
means  that,  despite  the  appearance  of  bare  disjunction 
when  motion  gives  place  to  heat,  or  heat  to  light,  etc., 
there  is  a  certain  permanence  of  relations.  The  amount 
of  motion,  heat,  light,  etc.,  is  the  same  in  a  certain  specific 
respect;  in  the  respect,  namely,  that  when  one  is  converted 
into  another,  the  sum  of  the  two  remains  the  same,  and 
the  amount  of  the  second  is  such  as  to  be  again  con- 
vertible into  the  same  amount  of  the  first.  This  may  be 
expressed  otherwise  by  saying  that  when  such  a  qualitative 
change  takes  place,  that  which  is  apparently  lost  is  in  a 
certain  sense  conserved,  in  that  it  exists  potentially  in  the 
new  quality.  Thus  energy,  like  acceleration,  mass,  and 
the  rest,  is  a  constant  relationship  or  proportion  of  vari- 
able terms.  And  as  in  the  case  of  the  other  concepts,  so 
here  also,  the  terms  are  functions  of  space  and  time,  or  of 
properties  that  occupy  them;  and  the  relationship  or  pro- 
portion is  exact  and  mathematical. 

§  10.   Such  is  the  meaning  of  certain  typical  scientific 

concepts,  or  descriptive  formulas,  so  far  as  can  be  gathered 

.   from  a  direct  examination  of  them  in  relation 

The  Analytical  •,  •,  •  - 

Version  of  to  the  subject-matter  which  they  are  intended 
to  describe.  There  is  a  question  which  I  am 
sure  will  occur  to  many  readers  as  proper 

1  It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  heat,  electricity,  etc.,  are  mechanical, 
in  the  strict  sense,  i.e.,  constituted  of  internal  motions.  "Nothing  is  con- 
tained in  the  expression,"  says  Mach,  "  but  the  fact  of  an  invariable  quanti- 
tative connexion  between  mechanical  and  other  kinds  of  phenomena." 
Cf.  Principles  of  Mechanics,  p.  499. 


SCOPE   AND   METHOD   OF   SCIENCE  6 1 

and  necessary  to  raise;  the  question,  namely  "What 
really  is  mass  or  energy?"  Upon  the  legitimacy  of  this 
question  turns  the  issue  between  naive  and  critical  natural- 
ism, with  which  we  shall  be  occupied  in  the  next  chapter. 
The  question  is  evidently  meant  to  convey  the  idea  that 
mass  and  energy  cannot  be  merely  ratios  or  formulas  — 
that  they  must  be  things,  in  some  more  reputable  sense. 
But  if  such  be  the  case,  at  any  rate  it  does  not  appear  in 
the  exact  records  of  science.  There  may  be  an  antecedent 
play  of  the  imagination  or  a  speculative  after-thought,  in 
which  mass  is  a  simple  substance  and  energy  a  simple 
activity.  But  as  exactly  formulated,  and  experimentally 
verified,  mass  and  energy  are  mathematical  relationships. 
And  if  this  analytical  version  of  scientific  concepts  will 
suffice  in  the  case  of  the  simpler  concepts,  there  is  no  reason 
why  it  should  not  suffice  also  in  the  case  of  the  more  com- 
plex concepts. 

When  motion  is  described  it  turns  out  to  be  a  definite  re- 
lation to  space  and  time,  of  something  which  occupies  them 
jointly.  Such  an  account  of  motion  is  not  imposed  upon 
it  by  any  subjective  predilection  for  a  relational  technique. 
It  is  empirically  characteristic  of  a  moving  body  to  be  now 
here,  now  there,  and  for  every  intermediate  instant  to 
occupy  an  intermediate  point.  The  calculus  of  motion  is 
merely  the  most  faithful  account  of  it  which  the  mind  has 
been  able  to  render.  The  same  is  true  of  the  more  complex 
thing  called  velocity.  It  is  the  ratio  of  the  distance  factor 
and  the  time  factor  in  the  case  of  a  moving  body.  When 
we  pass  from  velocity  to  acceleration,  mass,  gravitation, 
and  even  to  energy,  we  are  simply  observing  and  recording 
more  complicated  aspects  of  a  moving  or  otherwise  chang- 
ing body.  The  analytical  version  of  these  concepts  cor- 
responds to  the  specfic  complexity  on  which  observation 
has  seized.  The  supposition  that  there  must  be  a  real  mass 
or  energy  other  than  the  analytical  complex,  betrays  the 
influence  of  words.1  Because  'mass'  is  one  word  like 

1  This  supposition  is  also  due  in  part  to  a  projection  of  the  feeling  of 
effort  into  bodies  which  act  as  efficient  causes.  Cf.  below,  p.  70. 


62  PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

'blue/  it  is  felt  that  it  must  be  one  indivisible  thing 
like  blue.  But  it  would  be  as  reasonable  to  say  that 
motion  is  an  indivisible  thing  because  the  word  'motion' 
is  single;  whereas  it  is  evident  that  motion  contains  both 
space  and  time,  and  is  therefore  complex.  I  am  led  to  con- 
clude, therefore,  that  all  of  these  concepts  are  essentially 
ratios  or  relational  complexes  of  the  simple  terms  of  experi- 
ence, such  as  space,  time,  color,  sound,  etc. ;  and  that  each 
of  these  ratios  or  relational  complexes  expresses  some 
specific  complexity  or  configuration,  which  is  found  in 
nature.  And  I  judge  that  these  concepts  illustrate  the 
motive  of  science;  which  is  simply  to  describe  and  record, 
with  special  reference  to  their  unity  and  constancy,  the 
actual  changes  of  bodies. 


CHAPTER  IV 

NAIVE  AND  CRITICAL  NATURALISM 

§  i.  NATURALISM,  as  we  have  seen,  is  not  science,  but 
an  assertion  about  science.  More  specifically,  it  is  the 
The  TWO  assertion  that  scientific  knowledge  is  final, 
Varieties  of  leaving  no  room  for  extra-scientific  or  philo- 
atura  ism  sophical  knowledge.  Naturalism  assumes  two 
forms.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  a  variety  of  naturalism 
which  adopts  the  traditional  problems,  and  to  a  large  extent 
the  traditional  methods,  of  philosophy.  It  continues,  e.g., 
the  philosophical  search  for  a  universal  substance  and  a 
first  cause,  and  claims  to  have  discovered  these  in  some  such 
scientific  concept  as  'matter'  or  'force.'  The  second 
variety  of  naturalism  repudiates  not  only  the  solutions  of 
the  traditional  philosophy,  but  the  problems  and  methods 
as  well.  It  condemns  the  search  for  universal  substance 
and  first  cause  as  futile.  Its  last  word  is  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge, in  which  science  is  asserted  to  be  final  because 
the  only  case  of  exact  knowledge.  In  other  words,  the 
second  variety  of  naturalism  claims  less  for  the  concepts 
of  a  science,  but  nevertheless  claims  all.  Science  is  not 
the  only  knowledge  that  has  been  dreamed  of,  but  it  is 
the  only  knowledge  that  is  possible.  The  first  variety  of 
naturalism  is  metaphysical,  the  second  proclaims  its 
'anti-metaphysical'  character.  Or  the  first  may  be  called 
'materialism,'  and  the  second  'positivism.' 

The  crucial  difference  between  these  two  forms  of  natural- 
ism is  to  be  found,  I  think,  in  what  they  make  of  scientific 
concepts.  The  first  construes  matter,  mass,  energy,  and 
the  rest,  as  simple  substances  or  powers.  Owing  to  its 
failure  to  analyze  these  concepts,  owing  to  its  uncritical 
assumption  that  whatever  has  a  single  name  must  be 
63 


64          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

an  indivisible  thing,  I  propose  to  call  this  (nawe  naturalism.' 
The  second  variety,  on  the  other  hand,  accepts  the  analyti- 
cal version  of  scientific  concepts,  as  set  forth  in  the  last 
chapter,  and  hence  may  be  called  'critical  naturalism.' 

Naive  naturalism,  metaphysical  naturalism,  or  material- 
ism, derives  its  form  from  philosophy  —  and  its  defects  as 
well.  Indeed  it  affords  the  best  example  available  of  the 
characteristic  defects  of  philosophy,  of  those  errors  to  which 
philosophy  is  perpetually  and  peculiarly  liable  owing  to  the 
motives  which  rule  it.  We  shall,  therefore,  be  aided  both 
in  the  exposition  and  in  the  criticism  of  naive  naturalism 
if  we  have  certain  of  these  errors  clearly  in  mind. 

§  2.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  an  error  to  which  I  propose 
to  give  the  name  of  'the  speculative  dogma.'1  By  this  I 
mean  the  arbitrary  assertion  of  the  ideal  of 
thought.  What  that  ideal  is,  when  verbally 
sophical  Errors,  formulated,  may  be  inferred  from  our  review 
°*  tne  procedure  of  science.  The  concepts  of 
science  satisfy  thought's  peculiar  bias  for 
identity  and  permanence.  Thought  seeks  so  far  as  pos- 
sible to  construe  particulars  as  modes  of  the  general, 
to  construe  what  is  apparently  unique  as  a  special  in- 
stance of  something  that  is  common.  It  seeks  also  to 
account  for  as  much  as  possible  of  any  individual  phenome- 
non, in  terms  of  such  a  general  concept.  It  seeks  concepts, 
in  short,  that  shall  be  both  general,  and  also  sufficient  or 
adequate,  to  the  things  subsumed  under  them.  Now 
philosophy  has  especially  to  do  with  ultimates  and  finalities. 
So  the  philosophical  form  of  this  general  propensity  of 
thought  gives  rise  to  the  ideal  of  a  concept  that  shall  be 
of  unlimited  generality  and  sufficiency.  The  concepts  of 
acceleration  and  mass  make  possible  the  systematization 
of  the  motion-properties  of  bodies.  By  virtue  of  these 
concepts  each  body  is  regarded  as  a  function  of  all  other 
bodies;  and  these  concepts  may  thus  be  said  to  possess  a 

1  For  a  more  thorough  examination  of  this  error,  see  below,  Ch.  VIII, 
passim. 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  65 

high  degree  of  generality.  But  because  they  leave  the 
space-time-filling  properties  out  of  the  account,  they 
lack  sufficiency;  that  is,  they  do  not  measure  up  to  the 
concrete  variety  of  an  individual  body's  properties.  They 
account  for  something  of  all  bodies,  but  not  for  all  of  any 
body.  The  concept  of  energy,  on  the  other  hand,  makes  a 
body's  motion-properties  commensurable  with  its  heat,  light, 
sound,  etc.;  and  thus  makes  the  formulas  of  science  more 
sufficient,  that  is,  more  exhaustive  of  an  individual  body's 
variety  of  properties.  Hence  it  appears  possible  to  define 
a  maximum  in  both  directions;  a  concept  that  shall  lack 
nothing  either  in  generality  or  sufficiency  —  that  shall 
provide  for  everything,  and  for  all  of  everything. 

Such  a  concept  is  the  speculative  ideal.  Were  it  formu- 
lated and  verified  it  would  mark  the  consummation  of 
thought.  And  it  is  characteristic  of  philosophy  to  assume 
such  a  concept,  without  being  rigorously  critical  concerning 
either  its  definition  or  its  proof.  With  many  philosophers, 
perhaps  with  the  majority  of  philosophers,  it  is  simply  a 
question  of  finding  a  content  or  a  complete  formulation  for 
this  concept,  its  validity  as  an  abstract  ideal  being  taken 
for  granted.  Philosophy  is  then  only  an  attempt  to  find  the 
the  value  of  x,  where  x  is  that  something  of  which  every- 
thing is  a  case,  and  in  terms  of  which  every  aspect  and 
alteration  of  everything  may  be  expressed.  And  specula- 
tion has  given  rise  to  an  uninterrupted  line  of  attempted 
solutions,  from  Thales's  "all  things  are  made  of  water," 
down  to  the  present-day  "monisms"  of  force  and  energy. 
It  is  the  uncritical  assumption  that  this  speculative  ideal 
is  valid  —  that  such  a  concept  is  necessary,  leaving  only 
its  precise  nature  to  be  determined  —  that  I  have  named 
'the  speculative  dogma.' 

§  3.  A  second  traditional  philosophical  error  may  con- 
veniently be  named  the  'error  of  pseudo-simplicity.'1  It 
consists  in  the  failure  to  recognize  the  difference  between 
the  simplicity  that  precedes  analysis,  and  the  simplicity 

1  For  this  and  the  following  error,  cf.  also  below,  pp.  261-264,  270-283. 
6 


66          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

that  is  revealed  by  analysis;  between  the  apparent  sim- 
plicity of  an  unanalyzed  complex,  and  the  real  simplicity 
'Pseudo-sim-  of  the  ultimate  terms  of  analysis;  or  between 
SfinSd  I*16  simplicity  that  is  owing  to  the  little  that 
Potentiality'  one  knows,  and  that  which  is  owing  to  the 
much  that  one  knows. 

Thought  begins  with  an  undifferentiated  that,  roughly 
denoted  by  a  word  or  gesture.  The  object  is  as  yet  barely 
distinguished.  It  is  an  undivided  unity  because  some  single 
character,  such,  for  example,  as  its  position  in  space  or 
time,  or  a  relation  to  some  more  familiar  thing,  has  served 
to  identify  it  for  the  purpose  of  discourse  and  investigation. 
But  when  the  investigation  is  made,  a  variety  of  characters 
is  discovered;  and  if  the  investigation  is  carried  far  enough, 
certain  ultimate  characters  are  arrived  at,  which  will  no 
longer  yield  to  analysis.  The  object  is  then  exhibited  as  a 
complex  of  simple  properties,  having  a  certain  arrangement 
or  relational  unity.  Meanwhile  the  original  unity,  of 
name,  gesture,  or  denotative  reference,  hovers  reminiscently 
in  the  background  of  the  mind,  and  unless  it  is  understood 
and  discounted,  it  serves  to  discredit  analysis.  It  endows 
the  object  with  an  undivided  unity  which  contradicts  the 
results  of  analysis.  It  construes  the  object  as  simply  "that," 
whereas  analysis  construes  it  as  many  terms  in  relation.  It 
is  eventually  converted  into  the  well-known  notion  of 
'substance'  or  'essence,'  and  as  such  plays  the  role  of  a 
superior  reality  which  analysis  can  never  reach. 

The  fallacy  is  evident  when  once  it  is  noted  that  this 
undifferentiated  unity  is  subjective  and  not  objective.  It 
is  the  knowledge  of  the  thing,  which  is  simple,  and  not  the 
thing  itself.  It  is  not  the  thing,  but  the  mind  of  the  knower, 
that  is  empty  of  diversity.  And  if  it  is  not  possible  to 
reach  this  simplicity  by  carrying  analysis  on,  it  is  always 
possible  to  reach  it  by  reversing  the  process  and  returning 
to  the  initial  state  of  innocence. 

Intimately  connected  with  this  error  is  a  third,  which 
may  be  named  'the  error  of  indefinite  potentiality.'  A 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL  NATURALISM  67 

substance  or  essence,  construed  as  above,  is  supposed  to 
have  some  necessary  relation  to  the  characters  which 
analysis  yields,  and  which  are  called  its  attributes.  But 
the  substance  or  essence  as  contrasted  with  its  attributes 
is  no  more  than  a  name,  a  gesture,  or  some  one  of  its 
attributes,  arbitrarily  singled  out  for  the  purpose  of  identi- 
fication. And  between  the  essence  or  substance,  and  the 
cluster  of  its  attributes,  no  direct  relation  of  necessary  con- 
nection is  to  be  found.  Thus  one  does  not  have  a  concept 
of  an  indivisible  essence  'gold,'  and  then  see  that  it  implies 
'yellowness/  'malleability/  a  certain  specific  gravity,  etc. 
The  relation  remains  arbitrary.  Gold  is  regarded  as  the 
potentiality  of  these  things;  but  there  is  no  evidence 
that  it  is  the  potentiality  of  just  these  things,  or  of  these 
things  exclusively.  It  is  an  indefinite  and  indeterminate 
potentiality,  a  'that  which/  with  the  sequel  unaccounted 
for. 

How  gold,  simply,  should  reveal  itself  successively  as 
'yellow/  'malleable/  etc.,  really  becomes  clear  only  when 
psychological  terms  are  introduced.  An  organism  experi- 
encing the  real  complex  may  begin  with  the  name,  or  the 
position,  or  with  some  associate,  and  pass  on  to  the  rest, 
finally  overlapping  the  full  detail.  In  this  case  the  detail 
is  not  generated  by  the  original  simplicity  itself;  but,  pre- 
existing in  the  thing  from  the  start,  is  gradually  uncov- 
ered, or  brought  into  consciousness.  And  this  is  a  very 
different  matter.  For  now  while  there  is  a  transition  in 
consciousness  from  simplicity  to  complexity,  the  thing  itself 
has  been  complex  all  the  while.  Indeed  the  subjective  sim- 
plicity owes  its  potentialities  to  the  objective  complexity. 

These  three  errors  have  perpetually  played  into  one 
another,  and  have  begotten  certain  well-nigh  inveterate 
habits  in  philosophical  thought.  The  'Absolute'  or  'Ulti- 
mate/ or  '  Infinite'  has  become  a  commonplace.  It  is 
already  plausible  and  men  are  at  once  ready  to  entertain 
the  idea,  because  of  the  common  supposition  that  every 
individual  thing  has  an  inward  indivisible  essence  which 


68  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

is  its  'real'  nature,  as  opposed  to  its  diversity  as  revealed 
by  analysis.  It  is  an  easy  step  from  such  particular 
essences  to  a  universal  essence.  And  the  notion  of  an  all- 
general,  all-sufficient  entity,  that  shall  be  all  properties  to 
all  things,  is  readily  entertained  by  a  mind  that  is  accus- 
tomed to  the  notion  of  indeterminate  and  unlimited 
potentialities.  Such  are  the  modes  of  thought  character- 
istic of  a  'metaphysics'  that  is  unfaithful  to  the  method 
of  analysis. 

§4.  Naive    naturalism    regards    'matter,'    'force/    or 

'energy'   as   the   universal    substance.     Such   a   view  is 

,    naturalistic,  in  that  it  attributes  finality  and 

Naive  Natural-         .  ,.  ,       , J     . 

ism.  Buchner's  universality    to    these    concepts    of    physical 
Matter1101        science;    and  naive,  in  that  it  puts  a  sub- 
stantial rather   than  an   analytical  interpre- 
tation on  them. 

During  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  most 
influential  materialist  was  Louis  Biichner,1  whose  Kraft  und 
Sto/  has  passed  through  twenty  German  and  eight  French 
editions.  This  book  expressed  a  reaction  against  idealistic 
metaphysics  caused  by  the  rapid  advance  of  the  natural  sci- 
ences.2 The  author  attributes  the  false  philosophy  of  the 
past  to  the  abstract  separation  of  matter  and  force.  The 
former  abstracted  from  the  latter — a  matter  with  no  inter- 
nal attraction  and  repulsion,  "a  being  without  properties," 
is  nothing  at  all  ("ein  Unding").  The  form  and  movement 
of  matter  constitute  "its  necessary  attributes,  and  sine  qua 
non."  On  the  other  hand,  force  means  nothing  "without 
the  modifications  and  movements  that  we  perceive  in  mat- 
ter." The  absurd  notion  of  a  disembodied  force  is  chiefly 
responsible  for  the  spiritistic  and  creationist  theories  which 
have  distinguished  loose  speculation  from  true  science. 
"Keine  Kraft  ohne  Stoff,  —  kein  Stoff  ohne  Kraft!" 
The  balance  of  the  chemist  proves  that  matter  is  "immor- 
tal," as  the  determination  of  the  mechanical  equivalent  of 

i  1824-1899.    The  first  edition  of  the  Kraft  und  Sto/  appeared  in  1855. 
«  Cf.  op.  cit.,  Conclusion. 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  69 

heat  by  Mayer  and  Joule  establishes  the  "immortality" 
of  force.1 

In  other  words,  matter  manifests  itself  in  force,  and  force 
in  turn  manifests  itself  in  various  determinate  and  meas- 
urable changes  such  as  motion  and  heat.  Matter  itself  is 
that  which  thus  manifests  itself.  "This  'something'  is 
what  we  call  matter,  the  phenomena  in  question  are  its 
activities,  and  the  cause  of  these  activities  is  the  force 
contained  in  the  substance."  What  matter  is  in  itself  we 
cannot  know.  Hence  we  must  not  judge  matter  merely 
by  what  is  known  of  it.  Indeed  since  its  essence  escapes 
us,  there  is  nothing  of  which  it  can  be  judged  incapable. 
Science  is  constantly  finding  it  to  possess  unexpected  prop- 
erties. As  a  potentiality  without  assignable  limits,  it 
may  be  as  reasonably  endowed  with  "intellectual"  force 
as  with  "physical"  force;  and  no  man  can  foresee  what 
further  powers  it  may  in  the  future  reveal.2 

Now  it  is  evident  that  such  a  'monism  of  matter'  neces- 
sarily employs  the  notion  of  substance  —  the  notion  of  an 
essence  distinguished  from  its  properties,  and  not  defined  by 
them.  Since  matter  is  not  identified  with  specific  proper- 
ties, it  is  an  indefinite  potentiality;  and  were  it  not  so,  its 
universality  or  metaphysical  reality  could  not  be  asserted. 
In  short  everything  can  be  claimed  for  matter,  just  in 
proportion  as  matter  is  not  identified  with  anything  in 
particular.  It  is  the  pressure  of  the  speculative  dogma, 
the  assumption  that  there  must  be  some  conception  having 
unlimited  generality  and  sufficiency,  that  leads  the  party  of 
matter  to  present  their  favorite  conception  in  this  role; 
and  to  assume  this  r61e,  matter  must  be  divested  of  the 
specific  and  determinate  character  which  is  assigned  to  it 
in  the  limited  operations  of  science. 

§  5.  Now  it  happens  that  'matter'  is  too  well-known  in 
its  private  capacity  to  play  becomingly  the  part  of  Univer- 

1  Op.  cit.,  from  the  French  translation,  by  Victor  Dave,  of  the  seventeenth 
edition,  pp.  3,  46;  cf.  Ch.  II,  III,  passim. 
1  Op.  cit.  pp.  43,  45,  46. 


70  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

sal  Being.  Common  sense  has  a  comparatively  clear 
image  connected  with  the  term.  It  invariably  suggests 
Spencer's  spacial  discreteness  and  juxtaposition,  a  tri- 
Monismof  dimensional  aggregate  of  units  of  volume 
Force  bounded  by  hard  surfaces.  And  if  this  be 

matter,  then  evidently  matter  is  not  everything.  So 
characteristic  an  arrangement  suggests  contrasts  as  well 
as  analogies;  if  it  provides  for  some  things,  like  the 
planetary  system  or  the  molecular  structure  of  gases, 
it  leaves  out  other  things,  such  as  color,  thought,  or  the 
ether.  Hence  the  superiority  of  concepts  like  'force'  and 
'energy.'  For  these  have  not  only  the  specific  mean- 
ing which  they  obtain  from  the  formulas  of  mechanics; 
they  have  also  the  vague  meaning  which  they  have  when 
construed  in  terms  of  the  inner  experience  of  activity  or 
effort.  Common  sense  recoils  from  the  notion  of  a  matter 
that  shall  not  be  hard,  discrete,  and  extended;  but  it  is 
prepared  to  hear  anything  of  force  or  energy. 

And  there  is  a  second  motive  which  tends  to  the  substi- 
tution of  these  conceptions  for  matter.  The  indestructibil- 
ity of  matter  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  matter  changes  its 
form  without  loss  of  weight.  Empirically,  in  other  words, 
it  is  the  property  of  weight  that  remains  constant.  But 
weight  is  a  manifestation  of  force;  and  matter  may  there- 
fore be  regarded  as  one  of  these  manifestations.  Or  one 
may  argue,  as  the  philosophers  Leibniz  and  Berkeley  have 
argued  long  since,  that  matter  is  known  only  by  its  prop- 
erties, by  its  "forms  and  motions";  and  if  these  are  varie- 
ties of  force,  why  multiply  substrata  or  essences  needlessly? 
Instead  of  conceiving  a  matter  that  manifests  itself  in  forms 
and  motions,  why  not  stop  at  force,  and  invest  it  with 
finality  and  universality? 

So  the  'monism  of  force'  replaces  'the  monism  of  matter.' 
"As  shown  before,"  says  Spencer,  "we  can  not  go  on  merg- 
ing derivative  truths  in  those  wider  truths  from  which  they 
are  derived,  without  reaching  at  least  a  widest  truth  which 
can  be  merged  in  no  other,  or  derived  from  no  other.  And 


NAlVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  71 

the  relation  in  which  it  stands  to  the  truths  of  science  in 
general,  shows  that  this  truth  transcending  demonstration 
is  the  Persistence  of  Force.  .  .  .  But  when  we  ask  what 
this  energy  is,  there  is  no  answer  save  that  it  is  the  noumenal 
cause  implied  by  the  phenomenal  effect.  Hence  the  force 
of  which  we  assert  persistence  is  that  Absolute  Force  we 
are  obliged  to  postulate  as  the  necessary  correlate  of  the 
force  we  are  conscious  of.  By  the  Persistence  of  Force, 
we  really  mean  the  persistence  of  some  Cause  which  tran- 
scends our  knowledge  and  conception.  In  asserting  it  we 
assert  an  Unconditioned  Reality  without  beginning  or  end." l 

The  use  of  capitals  in  this  paragraph  is  an  expedient  for 
ridding  terms  of  that  precision  of  meaning  which  is  so  fatal 
to  the  speculative  interest.  By  '  force '  one  can  only  mean 
the  p  or/  of  the  formulas  of  mechanics;  but  by  'Force' 
one  can  mean  this  together  with  anything  else  that  it 
may  prove  convenient  to  mean.  The  former  is  one 
thing  among  others;  the  latter  may  be  equal  to  anything 
and  everything.  We  are  "obliged  to  postulate"  it,  to 
satisfy  the  speculative  dogma;  and  we  are  enabled  to  satisfy 
that  dogma,  only  by  reducing  a  determinate  concept  to  a 
name,  and  then  construing  its  very  emptiness  as  signifying 
unlimited  potentiality. 

The  monism  of  force,  as  has  been  said,  derives  a  certain 
plausibility  from  the  experience  of  activity  or  effort.  It  is 
significant  that  it  is  the  vagueness  of  this  experience  that 
renders  it  useful  in  this  connection.  Were  it  a  specific 
experience,  like,  e.g.,  that  of  the  color  blue,  it  would  not  so 
readily  lend  itself  to  unlimited  generalization.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  experience  of  activity  may  be  construed  in  one 
of  two  ways:  it  may  be  taken  in  its  initial  or  passing  char- 
acter as  a  fused  experience,  or  it  may  be  analyzed.2  In  the 
first  case,  it  possesses  simplicity  just  in  proportion  as  it 
is  not  an  experience  of  anything;  it  signifies,  not  the  sim- 

1  Spencer  (1820-1903):  First  Principles  (1862),  sixth  edition,  pp. 
I7S-I76. 

»  Cf.  below  pp.  261-264,  279-283. 


72  PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

plicity  of  the  thing,  but  of  the  knowledge.  It  is,  in  short, 
a  case  of  'pseudo-simplicity.'  In  the  second  case,  that  is, 
when  analyzed,  it  turns  out  to  be  a  composite  experience, 
containing  specific  elements  in  a  specific  configuration. 
Now  activity  in  the  latter  sense  is  far  too  peculiar  and  rare 
to  be  construed  as  an  all-general  and  all-sufficient  princi- 
ple. But  activity  in  the  former  sense  is  indeterminate; 
and  since  the  experience  is  familiar,  it  gives  currency  to  a 
similarly  indeterminate  conception  of  force,  which  is  amor- 
phous and  plastic  enough  to  suit  the  speculative  purpose. 
It  is  readily  accepted  as  the  principle  which  underlies  and 
unites  both  the  analyzed  and  determinate  'force'  of 
physics,  and  the  analyzed  and  determinate  'activity'  of  a 
strictly  descriptive  psychology. 

§  6.  The  monisms  of  matter  and  force  are  restated, 
brought  up  to  date,  and  subsumed  under  a  higher 
Haeckei's  "monism  of  substance,"  by  Ernst  Haeckel. 
Monism  of  This  author's  Riddle  of  the  Universe  is  at 
present  both  the  most  widely  read  and  influ- 
ential defence  of  materialism,  and  also  the  most  perfect 
illustration  of  that  doctrine's  characteristic  motive  and 
besetting  sins. 

"Under  the  name  of  'the  law  of  substance,'"  Haeckel 
embraces  "two  supreme  laws  of  different  origin  and  age  — 
the  older  is  the  chemical  law  of  the  'conservation  of  matter,' 
and  the  younger  is  the  physical  law  of  the  '  conservation  of 
energy. '  "  "  The  sum  of  matter  which  fills  infinite  space," 
and  "the  sum  of  force,  which  is  at  work  in  infinite  space 
and  produces  all  phenomena,"  are  alike  unchangeable. 
And  just  as  all  energies  —  heat,  sound,  light,  electricity, 
and  the  rest,  are  only  particular  varieties  of  one  universal 
energy,  "dynamodes  of  a  single  primitive  force,"  so  the  dif- 
ferent forms  of  matter — chemically  diverse,  ponderable  and 
imponderable,  are  only  particular  "condensations"  of  a 
"simple  primitive  substance,  which  fills  the  infinity  of 
space  in  an  unbroken  continuity."  But  monism  is  not 
yet  complete.  "Matter  (space-filling  substance)  and 


NAlVE  AND   CRITICAL  NATURALISM  73 

energy  (moving  force)  are  but  two  inseparable  attributes" 
of  a  still  more  fundamental  substance.  And  in  this  sub- 
stance the  dualism  of  body  and  mind  is  resolved  as  well. 
For  energy  and  spirit  are  one.  Spirit  is  at  once  the 
essence  and  the  activity  of  substance;  physical  affinity 
and  resistance  are  but  rudimentary  forms  of  inclination  and 
aversion.  "The  irresistible  passion  that  draws  Edward 
to  the  sympathetic  Ottilia,  or  Paris  to  Helen,  and  leaps 
over  all  bounds  of  reason  and  morality,  is  the  same 
powerful  'unconscious'  attractive  force  which  impels  the 
living  spermatozoon  to  force  an  entrance  into  the  ovum  in 
the  fertilization  of  the  egg  of  the  animal  or  plant  —  the 
same  impetuous  movement  which  unites  two  atoms  of 
hydrogen  to  one  atom  of  oxygen  for  the  formation  of  a 
molecule  of  water."  Thus  Haeckel  arrives  at  the  animism 
and  hylozoism  with  which  human  thought  had  set  out 
some  2500  years  before,  the  notion  of  an  indeterminate 
matter,  informed  and  animated  by  an  indeterminate  force 
—  a  cosmic  generalization,  in  other  words,  of  the  immedi- 
ate feeling  of  desire  and  self-motion.  And  even  this  is  not 
the  last  substance;  for  it  is  but  "the  knowable  aspect  of 
things,"  and  is  relative  to  our  senses.  "We  are  incompe- 
tent ...  to  penetrate  into  the  innermost  nature  of  this 
real  world  —  'the  thing  in  itself.'  "  l 

Thus  the  principle  of  substance  in  the  end  conducts 
Haeckel,  as  it  conducted  Biichner  and  Spencer,  to  agnosti- 
cism. And  his  procedure  is  in  all  essential  respects  the 
same  as  theirs.  He  consistently  assumes  that  a  simple 
unity  corresponding  to  the  name  or  initial  aspect,  must 
underlie  every  analyzed  and  relational  unity.  For  every 
correlation  of  elements,  there  must  be  a  'that  which'  pos- 
sesses them.  And  this  assumption  is  applied  to  the  cen- 
tral concepts  of  physics.  Weight,  mass,  force,  and  energy, 

1  Haeckel:  The  Riddle  of  the  Universe,  trans,  by  J.  McCabe,  pp.  211- 
213,  216,  218,  224,  292.  The  best  reply  to  Haeckel  is  to  be  found  in  Sir 
Oliver  Lodge,  Life  and  Matter.  Cf.  also  Fr.  Paulsen:  Philosophia  Militant, 
p.  121,  "Ernst  Haeckel  als  Philosoph." 


74          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

are  properly,  as  we  have  seen,  constant  ratios  of  variables: 
mathematical  proportions  of  the  spacial,  temporal,  and 
qualitative  properties  of  things,  as  these  are  directly  ob- 
served. But  with  Haeckel,  every  such  relational  complex 
is  regarded  as  expressing  some  simple  essence  or  unique 
quality.  Thus  the  Newtonian  mechanics,  he  says,  gives 
us  only  the  "  dead  mathematical  formula  "  the  "  quantita- 
tive demonstration"  of  the  theory  of  force;  "it  gives  us  no 
insight  whatever  into  the  qualitative  nature  of  the  phenom- 
ena." x  In  other  words,  Haeckel  is  not  satisfied  with  the 
qualitative  diversity  represented  by  the  several  terms  into 
which  a  Newtonian  formula  may  be  analyzed.  There  must 
be  a  deeper  and  more  essential  quality  corresponding  to 
the  formula  itself.  But  such  a  quality  is  neither  to  be 
observed  nor  discovered  by  analysis.  It  is  assumed',  and 
once  assumed,  it  is  given  a  vague  meaning  either  by  refer- 
ence to  the  subjective  experience  of  effort,  or  by  the  linger- 
ing and  confused  reminiscence  of  its  exact  mechanical 
meaning. 

And  it  is  the  latter  of  these  means  on  which  this  doctrine 
depends  for  its  materialistic  or  anti-spiritualistic  conclu- 
sions. If  the  qualitative  essence  of  force  and  energy  were 
interpreted  in  terms  of  psychical  activity  or  appetency,  the 
outcome  would  be  a  ' panpsychism,'2  in  which  it  would  be 
as  reasonable  to  reduce  mechanism  to  freedom  as  freedom 
to  mechanism,  or  as  reasonable  to  reduce  matter  to  God  as 
God  to  matter.  Precisely  this  conclusion  is  reached  by 
those  who,  like  Bergson,  approach  the  primeval  activity- 
substance  from  the  philosophical  and  psychological  side.3 
But  Haeckel's  monism  "definitely  rules  out  the  three 
central  dogmas  of  metaphysics  —  God,  freedom,  and  im- 
mortality."4 And  that  such  appears  to  be  the  outcome 
is  due  entirely  to  the  remnant  of  definite  physical  mean- 
ing that  still  attaches  to  'force'  and  'energy'  in  Haeckel's 
use  of  them.  The  underlying  substance,  or  primitive 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  217.  l  Cf.  below,  p.  315. 

»  See  below,  pp.  261-262.  «  Op.  cit.,  p.  232. 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  75 

force,  cannot  be  identified  with  any  of  its  observed  and 
described  manifestations;  and  yet  it  is  reached  by  passing 
through  and  beyond  these.  It  is  these  manifestations  so 
qualified  as  to  annul  their  specific  characters,  but  without 
destroying  the  suggestive  power  of  their  names.  Precisely 
as,  in  the  mystical  theology,  God's  attributes  transcend 
wisdom  and  goodness  in  their  human  significance,  and  yet 
retain  the  specific  associations  of  these  terms,  and  so  endow 
God  with  a  vague  meaning;  so  here  the  primitive  force, 
the  fundamental  substance,  is  endowed  with  the  narrower 
physical  meaning  of  terms  despite  the  fact  that  that  mean- 
ing strictly  construed  forbids  the  assertion  of  their  uni- 
versality. The  errors  of  pseudo-simplicity  and  indefinite 
potentiality  are  meretriciously  relieved  of  their  real  barren- 
ness by  the  further  error  of  'verbal  suggestion.' 1 

§  7.  Critical  naturalism  differs  from  naive  naturalism  or 
materialism  by  its  acceptance  of  what  we  have  called  'the 
Critical  Nat-  analytical  version '  of  scientific  concepts.  This 
uraiism  involves  the  rejection,  on  empirical  grounds, 

of  the  traditional  notion  of  substance.  The  term  'sub- 
stance' may  be  retained;  but  if  so,  it  is  employed  in  a  new 
sense,  to  mean  a  quantitative  and  not  a  qualitative  con- 
stant. Thus,  according  to  Ostwald,  for  example,  the  law 
of  the  conservation  of  energy  expresses  "the  quantitative 
conservation  of  a  thing,  which  may  nevertheless  undergo 
the  most  varied  qualitative  changes."  "With  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  fact,"  he  continues,  "we  involuntarily  combine 
the  notion  that  it  is  the  '  same '  thing  that  passes  through 
all  these  transformations,  and  that  it  only  changes  its  out- 
ward form  without  being  changed  in  its  essence."  But 
such  ideas  "have  a  very  doubtful  side  to  them,  since  they 
correspond  to  no  distinct  concept."  Experience  affords 
no  idea  of  such  a  qualitative  essence,  but  only  of  a  complex 
ratio  that  remains  unchanged  while  its  factors  vary.2 

In  other  words,  a  strictly  empirical  version  of  science 

1  Cf.  below,  pp.  180-183. 

*  W.  Ostwald:   Natural  Philosophy,  trans,  by  T.  Seltzer,  pp.  130-133. 


7 6  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

reduces  nature  to  a  qualitative  variety  and  change,  exhibit- 
ing quantitative  constancy.  In  order  that  such  a  version 
of  science  shall  yield  a  naturalistic  philosophy,  it  is  necessary 
to  show  that  nature  so  construed  coincides  with  knowable 
reality.  This  conclusion  may  be  arrived  at  in  one  or  both 
of  two  ways.  It  may  be  argued  that  the  ultimate  quali- 
tative terms  of  experience  are  somehow  physical,  or  at 
any  rate  such  as  to  permit  of  being  explained  only  in  terms 
of  physical  theories;  or  it  may  be  argued  that  physical 
theories  are  the  only  verifiable,  and  so  the  only  valid, 
theories.  In  other  words,  the  priority  of  physical  science 
may  be  argued  from  the  nature  of  fact  or  from  the  nature 
of  method.  The  former  of  these  motives  is  represented  by 
'  sensationalism , '  and  the  latter  by ' '  experimentalism . ' '  Sen- 
sationalism and  experimentalism  are  ordinarily  united;  but 
owing  to  a  characteristic  difference  of  emphasis,  Karl  Pearson 
serves  to  illustrate  the  former,  and  Henri  Poincare  the  latter. 
§  8.  It  is  Pearson's  central  contention  that  the  truths  of 
science  are  conceptions  and  inferences  formed  from  sense- 
The Sensation-  impressions.  The  external  object,  which  "at 
alismofKari  first  sight  appears  a  very  simple  object," 
turns  out  to  be  a  "construct"  of  sensible 
properties,  "a  combination  of  immediate  with  past  or 
stored  sense-impressions."  So  that  the  field  of  science  is 
"the  contents  of  the  mind."  The  sense-impressions  con- 
stitute the  only  subject-matter  of  thought,  the  only  reality 
that  is  directly  given.  The  mind  is  shut  up  to  sense- 
impressions,  as  a  hypothetical  operator  who  has  never 
been  outside  a  central  telephone  exchange,  is  shut  up  to 
the  messages  received  at  the  inner  end  of  the  wire.  "Turn 
the  problem  round  and  ponder  over  it  as  we  may,  beyond 
the  sense-impression,  beyond  the  brain  terminals  of  the 
sensory  nerves,  we  cannot  get."  "The  'reality,'  as  the 
metaphysicians  wish  to  call  it,  at  the  other  end  of  the  nerve, 
remains  unknown,  and  is  unknowable."  x 

1  Karl  Pearson:  Grammar  of  Science,  second  edition,  pp.  39,  41,  75,  61, 
63,  <>7. 


NA?VE   AND    CRITICAL   NATURALISM  77 

These  sense-impressions  it  is  the  business  of  science  to 
"classify  and  analyze,  associate,  and  construct."  The 
"law  of  nature"  is  "a  resume  in  mental  shorthand,  which 
replaces  for  us  a  lengthy  description  of  the  sequences  among 
our  sense-impressions."  "The  object  served  by  the  dis- 
covery of  such  laws  is  the  economy  of  thought."  They 
"  enable  the  exertion,  best  calculated  to  preserve  the 
race  and  give  pleasure  to  the  individual,  to  follow  on  the 
sense-impression  with  the  least  expenditure  of  time  and  of 
intellectual  energy."  A  scientific  concept  such,  for  ex- 
ample, as  the '  atom/  is  either  "real,  that  is,  capable  of  being 
a  direct  sense-impression,  or  else  it  is  ideal,  that  is,  a  purely 
mental  conception  by  aid  of  which  we  are  enabled  to  formu- 
late natural  laws."  There  is  no  ground  for  the  assertion 
of  an  existence  that  is  both  "supersensuous"  and  also 
"real."  1 

Pearson  thus  apparently  accepts  the  analysis  of  physical 
substances  and  forces  into  non-physical  terms.  And  yet 
he  finds  this  view  to  afford  sufficient  ground  for  claiming 
the  universal  and  exclusive  validity  of  natural  science  and 
according  metaphysics  the  doubtful  honor  of  being  ranked 
with  poetry.2  Now  upon  further  examination  it  appears 
that  this  conclusion  is  due  to  the  fact  that  "sense-impres- 
sions" are  not  after  all  the  ultimate  terms  of  analysis,  but 
are  themselves,  in  Pearson's  sense,  physical  "  constructs."  In 
regarding  them  as  the  ultimate  terms  of  analysis,  Pearson 
is  virtually  assuming  the  priority  of  the  physical  order. 
The  sense-impression  is  a  derivative  of  the  whole  natural- 
istic scheme,  and  means  nothing  apart  from  that  scheme. 
"What  we  term  the  sense-impression  "  is  conveyed  by  a 
sensory  nerve,  and  is  "formed  at  the  brain."  "A  physical 
impress  is  the  source  of  our  stored  sense-impression." 
The  sameness  of  the  external  world  depends  on  "the 
similarity  in  the  organs  of  sense  and  in  the  perceptive 
faculty  of  all  normal  human  beings";  and  the  consciousness 
of  others  is  inferred  from  "physiological  machinery  of  a 
1  Ibid.,  pp.  66,  86,  78,  67,  96.  *  Ibid.,  Ch.  I,  passim. 


78  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

certain  character,  which  we  sum  up  under  brain  and  nerves." 
The  "sequences  of  sense-impressions,"  "the  routine  of  our 
perceptions,"  are  not  only  functions  of  physiological  nerve- 
stimulation,  but  may  be  conceived  to  have  evolved  as 
aids  in  "  the  struggle  for  existence."  l  It  is  perfectly  evi- 
dent, in  short,  that  sense-impressions,  in  their  structure 
and  given  order,  presuppose  the  whole  physical  system. 
The  real  question  is  not  how  we  can  get  "beyond  the  brain 
terminal,"  but  how  we  ever  came  to  be  shut  up  to  it. 
And  the  answer  is,  that  in  Pearson's  philosophy  we  assume 
a  physiological  relativism,  and  the  whole  physical  world-order 
in  terms  of  which  such  a  relativism  is  defined. 

§  9.  Much  light  is  thrown  on  the  dogmatic  character  of 
Pearson's  naturalism  by  the  modified  position  of  Ernst 
The  Modified  Mach.  According  to  this  author,  the  physical 
Position  of  order  is  essentially  a  relationship  sustained  by 
Ernst Mach  more  primitive  elements.  "A  color  is  a  physi- 
cal object  so  long  as  we  consider  its  dependence  upon  its 
luminous  source,  upon  other  colors,  upon  heat,  upon  space, 
and  so  forth.  Regarding,  however,  its  dependence  upon 
the  retina  (the  elements  K  L  M  .  .  .),  it  becomes  a  psycho- 
logical object,  a  sensation."  The  bare  color  is  neither 
physical  nor  psychical.  A  bullet,  for  example,  turns 
yellow  before  a  sodium  lamp,  red  before  a  lithium  lamp. 
Such  a  type  of  relationship  may  be  represented  by  the 
symbols  ABC....  But  if  we  close  the  eyes  or  cut  the 
optic  nerve,  the  bullet  disappears.  So  the  bullet  is  also  a 
function  of  a  peculiar  complex,  the  nervous  system,  repre- 
sented by  the  symbols  K  L  M.  .  .  .  "To  this  extent,  and 
to  this  extent  only,  do  we  call  ABC...  sensations,  and 
regard  A  B  C  as  belonging  to  the  ego."  In  other  words, 
A  B  C  .  .  .  are  psychical  only  in  so  far  as  they  belong  to 
the  specific  system  ABC  .  .  .  KLM.  ...  And  similarly, 
volitions,  memory-images  and  the  like,  represented  by  the 
symbols  a  ft  y  .  .  .  ,  owe  their  distinctive  character  to  the 
arrangement  in  which  they  are  united.  "The  fundamental 

1  Ibid.  pp.  42,  63,  57,  86,  99,  103. 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  79 

constituents  oiABC...a-Py...  would  seem  to  be  the 
same  (colors,  sounds,  spaces,  times,  motor  sensations  .  .  .  ), 
and  only  the  character  of  their  connexion  different."  In 
other  words,  not  only  "thing,  body,  matter,"  but  also 
"perceptions,  ideas,  volition,  and  emotion,  in  short  the 
whole  inner  and  outer  world,  are  composed  of  a  small  num- 
ber of  homogeneous  elements  connected  in  relations  of 
varying  evanescence  or  permanence."  l 

Now  it  is  evidently  improper  to  designate  these  elements 
themselves  as  "sensations,"  since  a  sensation  is  but  one  of 
the  complex  arrangements  in  which  they  appear. 
"Usually,"  says  Mach,  "these  elements  are  called  sensa- 
tions. But  as  vestiges  of  a  one-sided  theory  inhere  in  that 
term,  we  prefer  to  speak  simply  of  elements  (elementen)." 
He  continues,  it  is  true,  to  speak  of  bodies  as  "complexes 
of  sensations,"  or  definite  connexions  of  "the  sensory  ele- 
ments," and  is  thus  in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  mis- 
understanding on  which  Pearson's  sensationalism  is  based.2 
But  it  is  evident  that  Mach's  view  can  only  mean  a  reduc- 
tion of  both  the  physical  and  the  mental  order  to  a  manifold 
of  neutral  elements;  that  is,  elements  which  are  neither 
physical  nor  mental.  Nor  can  it  be  said  of  these  elements 
that  they  are  inherently  disposed  to  those  particular 
relationships  and  arrangements  in  which  they  compose 
bodies  or  physical  events.  The  orders  of  logic  and  mathe- 
matics, of  mind  and  of  conduct,  stand  upon  the  same  footing 
as  those  of  mechanical  nature.  So  the  analytical  method 
inevitably  leads  beyond  naturalism  to  a  'logical  realism,' 
that  is  as  independent  of  physics  as  it  is  of  psychology.3 

§  10.  Thus  critical  naturalism,  while  it  is  successful  in 
TheExperi-  *ts  polemic  against  every  metaphysics  of  sub- 
mentaiismof  stance,  fails  thus  far  to  establish  itself.  Its 
H.  Potocars  crjtical  motive  triumphs  at  the  expense  of 
its  naturalistic  motive.  There  remains,  however,  another 

1  E.  Mach:  Analysis  of  Sensations,  trans,  by  C.  M.  Williams,  pp.  13-14, 
17-18,  6,  18. 

1  Ibid.  pp.  18,  192.  *  Cf.  below,  pp.  310-311,  315-316. 


8o  PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

ground  on  which  its  claims  may  be  urged.  Even  though 
analysis  may  show  that  the  primitive  realities  are  not 
physical,  it  may  yet  be  argued  that  the  physical  hypothesis 
is  the  only  verifiable  hypothesis,  and  that  the  truths  of 
physical  science  are  the  only  well-authenticated  truths. 
In  other  words,  naturalism  may  be  argued,  not  on  ground  of 
fact,  but  on  ground  of  method.  Thus,  for  example,  Pear- 
son himself  asserts  that  "the  unity  of  all  science  consists 
alone  in  its  method,  not  in  its  material,"  and  that  if  any 
fields  lie  beyond  science,  they  "must  lie  outside  any  in- 
telligible definition  which  can  be  given  of  the  word  knowl- 
edge."1 

The  most  notable  contemporary  representative  of 
methodological  naturalism  or  experimentalism,  is  Henri 
Poincare.  This  writer's  view  is  best  comprehended  in  the 
light  of  its  relation  to  the  radical  view  of  another  contem- 
porary French  thinker,  Edouard  LeRoy.  The  latter, 
adopting  the  extreme  '  anti-intellectualistic '  position,  insists 
upon  the  entire  artificiality  or  conventionality  of  science, 
both  in  respect  of  its  facts  and  its  laws.  Science  is  an  in- 
vention for  the  purpose  of  action;  and  cannot,  therefore, 
be  regarded  as  a  revelation  of  reality.  It  follows  that  action 
is  prior  to  nature;  and  that  action,  since  to  define  is  to 
reconstruct  and  falsify,  can  be  known  only  by  instinct  or 
intuition.2  It  is  evident  that  such  a  conclusion  is  not 
naturalistic;  and  Poincare,  in  the  interests  of  naturalism, 
properly  undertakes  to  criticise  it.  If  naturalism  is  to  be 
maintained,  facts  cannot  be  regarded  as  wholly  indeter- 
minate, for  that  would  imply  the  deriving  of  physical  nature 
wholly  from  subjective  activity.  It  would  then  follow 
that  will  is  prior  to  body,  and  teleology  to  mechanism. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  reserve  for  facts  just  enough 
determinateness  to  require  the  physical  hypothesis  and  method 

1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  12,  15. 

*  See  E.  LeRoy:  "Science  et  Philosophic,"  Revue  de  Metaphysique  el  de 
Morale,  vol.  VII,  1899,  pp.  375  sq.  Cf.  Poincarg:  The  Value  of  Science, 
trans,  by  G.  B.  Halsted,  pp.  112-114.  F°r  a  discussion  of '  anti-intellectual- 
ism,'  see  below,  Ch.  X. 


NAIVE   AND   CRITICAL   NATURALISM  8 1 

for  their  explanation.  And  this  is  the  position  which 
Poincare  adopts.  The  "crude  facts"  are  such  as  verify 
only  physical  hypotheses;  they  lend  themselves  only  to 
the  method  of  experiment.  Thus  our  author  concludes 
that  "experiment  is  the  sole  source  of  truth.  It  alone  can 
teach  us  anything  new;  it  alone  can  give  us  certainty."1 

Now  it  appears  upon  reflection  that  Poincare's  "crude 
fact,"  like  Pearson's  "sensation,"  is  by  no  means  simple; 
and  that  it  predetermines  the  physical  hypothesis,  or  the 
method  of  experiment,  only  because  it  is  already  itself 
invested  with  a  physical  character.  In  other  words, 
Poincare's  analysis,  like  that  of  Pearson,  is  not  complete. 
He  believes  that  such  is  the  case,  when  he  reduces  external 
bodies,  like  the  ether,  e.g.,  to  persistent  relations.  "It  may 
be  said,  for  instance,  that  the  ether  is  no  less  real  than 
any  external  body;  to  say  this  body  exists  is  to  say  that 
there  is  between  the  color  of  this  body,  its  taste,  its  smell, 
an  intimate  bond,  solid  and  persistent;  to  say  the  ether 
exists  is  to  say  there  is  a  natural  kinship  between  all  the 
optical  phenomena,  and  neither  of  the  two  propositions 
has  less  value  than  the  other."  2  But  he  overlooks  the 
fact  that  the  correlation  of  qualities  with  spaces  and  time, 
is  itself  a  specific  case  of  more  primitive  relationships. 
This  specific  case,  which  is  already  physical,  he  simply 
assumes  to  be  universal.  Were  he  to  follow  analysis  to 
the  end,  he  would  find  that  his  "crude  facts"  presuppose 
certain  simpler  "groupings"  and  "kinships"  that  are  not 
the  subject-matter  of  physical  experimentation  at  all,  but 
of  logic  and  mathematics. 

The  unique  validity  of  the  experimental  method  de- 
pends on  an  exclusive  regard  for  the  kind  of  fact  for  which 
this  method  is  available.  Experimentalism,  like  sensation- 
alism, involves  a  vicious  circle.  A  certain  type  of  method 
is  accredited  by  its  applicability  to  a  certain  type  of  fact; 
and  this  type  of  fact,  in  turn,  is  accredited  by  its  lending 

1  Poincar6:    Science  and  Hypothesis,  p.  101. 
*  The  Value  of  Science,  pp.  139-140. 

7 


82  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

itself  to  a  certain  type  of  method.  For  the  facts  to  which 
experiment  or  scientific  verification  can  be  applied,  are 
limited  to  what  is  observable  in  a  place,  at  a  time.  An 
hypothesis  is  tried  by  an  '  observation ' ;  but  an  observation 
is  'taken'  at  a  designated  time  and  place,  and  it  serves  as 
a  test  only  so  far  as  the  space-time  orientation  is  exact. 
For  example,  the  hypothesis  on  which  the  prediction  of  an 
eclipse  is  based,  is  verified  when  it  appears  dark  at  a 
specific  instant,  to  an  observer  stationed  at  a  specific  place. 
The  appearance  of  darkness,  not  otherwise  determined, 
would  verify  nothing;  nor  would  it  ever  suggest  a  mechan- 
ical hypothesis  to  the  mind  of  a  scientist.  Science  arises 
as  a  formulation  of  experiences  that  may  be  non-mechani- 
cal in  content;  but  they  must  be  had  within  a  field  in  which 
the  mechanical  axes  of  reference  are  already  presupposed. 
An  equally  good  illustration  is  afforded  by  another  of 
Poincare's  examples.  "I  observe  the  deviation  of  a  gal- 
vanometer by  the  aid  of  a  movable  mirror  which  projects 
a  luminous  image  or  spot  on  a  divided  scale.  The  crude 
fact  is  this:  I  see  the  spot  displace  itself  on  the  scale,  and 
the  scientific  fact  is  this:  a  current  passes  in  the  circuit."  * 
A  complete  account  of  the  "crude  fact"  would  specify  not 
only  that  the  spot  shall  appear  on  the  scale,  that  is,  at  a 
determined  place,  but  at  a  determined  instant  as  well;  in 
other  words,  it  must  not  be  too  crude  to  be  lacking  in 
specific  spacial  and  temporal  relations  to  other  "crude 
facts."  Thus  Poincare's  facts  are  already  virtually  me- 
chanical, in  that  they  verify  only  such  hypotheses  as 
contain  space-time  variables  and  determine  space-time 
events. 

The  Failure  of  §  T *•  Poincare's  position  is  an  impossible  com- 
Criticai  Nat-  promise.  Either  the  facts  of  nature  are  entirely 
PrioSrofL^^icm^etermmate'  as  LeRoy  maintains;  in  which 
and  Mathe-  case  the  whole  scheme  of  physical  nature  is 
improvised  by  man  in  the  interests  of  action. 
Or  they  are  determinate;  in  which  case  they  are  already 

1  Op,  cit.,  pp.  116-117. 


NAIVE   AND    CRITICAL   NATURALISM  83 

endowed  with  a  complex  physical  character,  which  presup- 
poses certain  simpler  logical  and  mathematical  characters. 
In  the  latter  case,  the  categories  of  logic,  mathematics,  and 
physics  are  all  alike  factual  and  independent  of  the  con- 
structive activity  of  science.  "All  the  scientist  creates  in  a 
fact,"  says  Poincare,  "is  the  language  in  which  he  enunci- 
ates it."  x  Then  either  science  is  all  a  matter  of  language, 
in  which  case  it  is  deducible  from  the  practical  exigencies 
of  discourse,  as  LeRoy  would  maintain;  or  we  must  limit 
"language"  to  the  function  of  words  and  symbols.  But 
logic  and  mathematics  must  then  be  distinguished  from 
discourse,  and  regarded  as  themselves  sciences  of  fact.  For 
the  truths  of  logic  and  mathematics  are  independent  of  the 
conventions  employed  to  express  them.  We  shall  then  be 
led  to  conclude  that  physical  hypotheses  as  descriptive  of 
physical  facts,  employ  and  presuppose  logical  and  mathe- 
matical hypotheses,  which  in  turn  are  descriptions  of 
logical  and  mathematical  facts.  Logic  and  mathematics 
describe  the  nature  of  'relation,'  'order,'  'dimensionality,' 
'number,'  and  'space';  physics  studies  particular  cases 
of  these.  The  concepts  of  physics  are  special  values  of 
the  variables  of  logic  and  mathematics;  the  hypotheses 
of  physics  are  alternatives  supplied  by  the  more  abstract 
principles  of  logic  and  mathematics.  It  follows  that  there 
is  no  sense  in  which  physics  can  be  regarded  as  the  funda- 
mental science;  nor  is  there  any  sense  in  which  the  facts 
which  are  determined  by  physical  hypotheses  can  be 
regarded  as  ultimate  facts.  And  this  conclusion  is  fatal 
to  naturalism.  It  gives  to  being,  in  the  last  analysis,  a 
logical,  rather  than  a  physical,  character;  and  reduces  the 
experimental  method  of  physics  to  the  position  of  being  a 
special  instance  of  logical  method. 

Thus  a  critical  philosophy  of  science  carries  one  beyond 
physical  science  to  simpler  non-physical  terms,  and  pro- 
vides for  non-physical  methods  and  non-physical  theories 
with  which  to  formulate  these  terms.  'Color,'  'sound,' 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  121. 


84  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

'position,'  'order,'  'magnitude,'  'implication,'  none  of  these, 
nor  any  such  relatively  simple  term  of  experience,  is 
physical;  and  the  truths  concerning  these  things  are  far 
richer  and  more  various  than  such  as  can  be  ascertained 
by  physical  experimentation,  or  described  by  physical 
theories,  alone.  Whatever  testifies  to  the  truth  of  physics 
testifies  to  the  wider  and  more  basal  truths  of  logic  and 
mathematics.  Hence  Descartes's  astonishment,  "that 
foundations  so  strong  and  solid  should  have  no  loftier 
superstructure  reared  on  them." 


CHAPTER  V 

RELIGION  AND  THE  LIMITS  OF  SCIENCE 

§  i.  NATURALISM,  or  the  claim  that  physical  science  is 
unqualifiedly  and  exclusively  true,  is  equivalent  to  the 
Religious  Phi-  denial  of  optimistic  religion.  If  all  being  is 
bodily,  and  all  causality  mechanical,  then  there 


the  Limits  of  can  be  no  support  for  the  belief  that  the  cosmos 
at  large  is  dominated  by  goodness.  Life  is 
impotent;  and  the  aspirations  and  hopes  to  which  it 
gives  rise  are  vain.  Enlightenment  destroys  what  the 
heart  so  fondly  builds.  Man  is  engaged  in  a  losing 
fight.  He  may  "develop  a  worthy  civilization,  capable 
of  maintaining  and  constantly  improving  itself,"  but  only 
"until  the  evolution  of  our  globe  shall  have  entered  so  far 
upon  its  downward  course  that  the  cosmic  process  resumes 
its  sway;  and,  once  more,  the  State  of  Nature  prevails 
over  the  surface  from  our  planet."  l 

When  in  the  course  of  the  last  century  science  became 
so  militant  as  to  pretend  to  the  empire  of  human  knowledge, 
religion  was  compelled  in  self-defence  to  challenge  its  title. 
And  once  roused  to  arms,  religion  not  unnaturally  sought 
to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  territory.  The  result 
was  to  establish  a  habit  of  suspicion  and  hostility  between 
the  party  of  science  and  the  party  of  religion.  They 
became  hereditary  enemies.2  There  are  already  signs  of 
the  dawn  of  a  new  era;  perhaps  the  time  is  not  distant 
when  the  lion  and  the  lamb  shall  lie  down  together.  But 
at  present  it  is  still  generally  assumed  that  the  success  of 
religion  is  conditioned  by  the  failure  of  science.  The 
major  part  of  contemporary  religious  philosophy  is  de- 
voted to  a  disproof  of  science.  If  there  is  to  be  "room 

1  Huxley:  Evolution  and  Ethics,  p.  45.        *  See  above,  pp.  34-38. 
85 


86          PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

for  faith,"  that  room  must  be  gained  at  the  expense  of 
science.  When  a  scientist  confesses  failure,  as  when  Du 
Bois-Reymond  pronounces  his  "ignorabimus"  concerning 
the  relation  between  matter  and  consciousness,  he  is 
charged  with  treason  by  the  partisans  of  science,  but  is 
eagerly  quoted  and  followed  by  those  of  religion.1 

Now  it  must  be  admitted  that  religion's  instinctive  dis- 
trust of  science  has  a  basis  in  reason.  It  is  true,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  that  nothing  could  be  more  fatuous  than  the 
hostility  of  religion  to  science.  For  both  are  human  insti- 
tutions; and  whether  a  man  be  a  scientist  or  a  theologian, 
he  needs  both.  Nevertheless,  religion  of  the  optimistic 
type,  the  belief  that  civilization  dominates  and  eventually 
possesses  the  cosmic  process,  cannot  survive,  if  the  scien- 
tific version  of  things  be  accepted  without  reservations. 
Faith  can  be  justified  only  provided  limits  be  assigned  to 
science.  And  religion  will  be  wise  to  avoid  any  reconcilia- 
tion in  which  it  is  made  dependent  on  the  indulgence  of 
science. 

There  is  some  disposition  at  present  to  invest  religious 
capital  in  scientific  novelties.  Science  now  employs  con- 
cepts that  seem  less  forbidding  than  its  classic  atomism. 
May  not  energy,  or  the  electrically  charged  ether,  or  radio- 
activity, turn  out  to  be  the  essence  of  God,  or  of  man's 
immortal  soul?  There  are  two  reasons  for  distrusting  such 
suggestions.  In  the  first  place,  they  derive  whatever 
religious  meaning  they  possess  from  a  loose  and  anthro- 
pomorphic version  of  science,  and  not  from  its  rigorous 
formulation.  In  order  that  these  scientific  concepts  shall 
serve  as  hints  of  a  'spirit'  in  nature,  they  must  be  con- 
strued as  substances  and  invested  with  characters  drawn 
from  the  confused  feeling  of  effort.2  Religion  will  indeed 

1  E.  Du  Bois-Reymond:  Uber  die  Grenzen  des  Naturerkennens,  an  address 
at  the  Scientific  Congress  at  Leipzig,  1872;  cf.  ninth  edition,  p.  51.  For 
the  sequel,  cf.  Haeckel:  Riddle  of  the  Universe,  p.  180  sq.;  Fr.  Paulsen: 
Introduction  to  Philosophy,  trans,  by  F.  Thilly,  p.  77;  James:  Human 
Immortality,  p.  21;  etc. 

*  See  above,  pp.  71-72. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  87 

be  reduced  to  extremities  when  it  is  dependent  on  the 
vagaries  of  the  scientific  imagination. 

In  the  second  place,  even  though  such  scientific  concepts 
were  converted  into  spiritual  substances,  they  would  still 
yield  no  profit  to  religion.  Hylozoism,  or  even  panpsy- 
chism,  as  a  theory  of  the  ultimate  matter,  is  for  religious 
purposes  no  better  than  atomism,  and  no  worse.  Religion 
is  indifferent  to  the  question  of  substance.  For  religion  is 
made  of  hope  and  fear;  it  is  a  solicitude  for  certain  values. 
Its  justification  requires  that  the  cosmos,  whatever  it  be 
made  of,  shall  in  the  end  yield  to  desires  and  ideals  —  shall 
in  short,  be  good.  And  this  requirement  the  new  science 
satisfies  no  better  than  the  old.  For  science  does  not  deal 
with  value,  but  with  the  quantitative  constancies  exhibited 
in  natural  processes.  Whether  these  processes  take  place 
for  better  or  for  worse,  it  does  not  inquire.1  The  ex- 
planation by  ends,  the  reference  of  events  to  purposes,  it 
seeks  to  dispense  with  altogether.  A  philosophy  of  religion 
must  itself  add  the  judgment  of  value.  If  faith  is  to  be 
justified,  it  must  be  shown  that  the  good  determines  events 
and  is  not  a  mere  phosphorescent  glimmer  on  their  surface.2 
Science  does  not  deny  any  such  conclusions;  but  neither 
will  science  be  led  to  any  such  conclusions  —  for  the  reason 
that  its  subject-matter  and  its  methods  do  not  permit. 
The  intensive  cultivation  of  science  has  led,  and  will  always 
lead,  to  the  rejection  of  religious  hypotheses  as  irrelevant. 
In  terms  of  its  'facts,'  and  its  experimental  technique,  such 
hypotheses  are  unwarranted  and  unverifiable. 

The  philosophical  justification  of  optimistic  religion 
involves,  then,  a  critique  of  science;  not  a  refutation  of 
science,  but  a  delimitation  of  science — a  proof  that  science, 
strictly  construed,  is  not  all.  The  critique  of  science  thus 
constitutes  the  religious  sequel  to  science;  and  we  shall 
pass  in  review  the  several  contentions  upon  which  such  a 
critique  is  at  present  based. 

§  2.  Before  dealing  with  the  criticisms  of  science  that  are 

1  Cf.  above,  pp.  25-28.  *  Cf.  below,  pp.  341-342. 


88  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

peculiarly  characteristic  of  contemporary  philosophy,  I  de- 
sire briefly  to  allude  to  a  method  of  criticism  that  was  once 
Naturalism  and  common,  but  is  now  obsolescent.  I  refer  to  the 
Supematuraiism  argument  for  miracles.  A  miracle  is  a  breach 
of  scientific  law;  that  is,  the  failure  of  a  scientific  law  to 
obtain  within  its  proper  field.  Thus  a  motion  that  did 
not  obey  the  laws  of  motion  would  be  a  miracle;  as 
would  a  Euclidean  triangle  that  did  not  conform  to  the 
theorems  of  Euclidean  geometry.  But  the  notion  of  a 
miracle  in  this  sense  reflects  an  antiquated  conception  of 
natural  law.  When  laws  were  thought  of  as  divorced 
from  their  subject-matter,  and  imposed  upon  it  from  with- 
out, it  was  possible  to  think  of  their  being  obeyed  or  dis- 
obeyed without  ceasing  to  'hold.'1  But  scientific  laws 
are  now  understood  to  be  descriptions  of  their  subject- 
matter.  And  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  breach  of  the 
law,  in  this  sense.  For  if  things  do  not  behave  as  the  law 
stipulates,  it  follows  that  the  law  is  incorrect.  Were  a 
Euclidean  triangle  found  whose  interior  angles  were  not 
equal  to  180°,  it  would  be  necessary  to  retract  the  corre- 
sponding theorem;  and  were  there  empirical  evidence  of  a 
word's  converting  water  into  wine,  it  would  be  necessary 
to  amend  the  laws  of  chemistry  to  meet  the  case.  For 
when  an  event  falls  under  the  terms  of  the  law,  it  consti- 
tutes one  of  the  data  which  the  law  purports  to  describe, 
and  which  it  must  describe  if  it  is  to  be  a  law  at  all. 

The  disputes  between  science  and  religion  in  the  age  that 
has  just  passed  have  turned  largely  upon  this  issue.  The 
successive  defeats  of  religion  have  been  due  to  the  fact  that 
its  defenders  have  put  it  in  a  false  position.  The  validity 
of  religion  has  been  made  to  turn  upon  the  failure  of  science 
within  its  own  field.  And  naturally  enough,  the  apologists 
of  religion  have,  within  that  field,  been  no  match  for  their 
scientific  opponents.  The  Copernican  hypothesis  of  the 
motion  of  the  earth,  the  nebular  hypothesis  of  its  origin, 
and  the  geological  hypothesis  of  its  age  and  history, 

1  Cf.  K.  Pearson's  Grammar  of  Science,  Ch.  Ill,  passim. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  89 

were  arrived  at  by  regarding  the  earth  as  a  natural  body 
like  other  natural  bodies.  Religion,  starting  from  the 
unique  place  of  the  earth  in  the  historical  drama  of  salva- 
tion, was  led  to  assert  its  uniqueness  in  other  respects  also. 
There  resulted  the  ambiguous  and  untenable  position  of 
acknowledging  the  earth's  bodily  character,  and  at  the 
same  time  declining  to  apply  to  it  the  conclusions  of  those 
who,  without  ulterior  motive,  and  with  the  maximum  of  skill 
and  information,  devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of  bodies. 
The  same  thing  happened  in  the  case  of  man.  His 
bodily  functions  come  within  the  range  of  statics,  hydro- 
dynamics, aerodynamics,  and  chemistry;  while  as  an  animal 
organism,  he  belongs  to  the  subject-matter  of  biology  and 
physiological  psychology.  And  similarly  the  Scriptures, 
as  historical  documents,  must  necessarily  be  submitted  to 
the  methods  of  historical,  archaeological,  and  philological 
research.  The  apologists  of  religion  made  the  mistake  of 
disputing  the  findings  of  these  several  sciences,  and  under- 
took an  unequal  contest  with  experts  in  their  own  fields  of 
study.  The  result  was  inevitable.  Science,  because  free 
from  ulterior  motives,  and  superior  in  technique,  prevailed; 
and  religion,  regarded  as  an  ineffectual  protest  against 
advancing  enlightenment,  lost  prestige.1 

§  3.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  contemporary  critique  of 
science  to  accept  science  as  a  whole.  The  philosophy  of 
religion  no  longer  attempts  to  meet  science 
on  *ts  own  grounds,  and  to  dispute  questions 
Contemporary  of  detail  that  lie  within  its  province.  It  is 
admitted  that,  relatively  to  its  method  and 
subject-matter,  the  verdict  of  science  is  final 
and  unimpeachable.  Science  must  be  dealt  with  as  a 
system  which  is  complete  in  its  own  terms.  The  dif- 
ference between  science  and  religion  no  longer  turns  upon 
questions  of  fact,  but  upon  a  fundamental  question  of 
point  of  view  or  method. 

1  Cf.  Andrew  D.  White's  A  History  of  the  Warfare   of  Science  with 
Theology  in  Christendom,  passim. 


90          PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

Religion  must  accept,  once  for  all,  "the  concatenation 
of  phenomena";  and  abandon  the  "self-contradictory  re- 
ligious supernaturalism "  that  "attempts  self-satisfaction 
by  transfiguring  a  fragment  torn  from  the  temporal  series 
of  history."  Religion  and  true  philosophy  do  not  abide 
here  but  in  the  "eternal."1  We  must  concede  the  scien- 
tist's claim  of  the  universal  ramification  of  "causal  con- 
nections"; but  the  hope  of  deliverance  lies  in  the  immediate 
qualification — "so  far  as  the  scientific  interest  is  concerned." 
For  the  scientist  forgets  "that  all  this  causal  explanation 
has  no  meaning  whatsoever,  and  his  statements  no  truth, 
and  his  universe  no  reality,  if  he  and  we  are  not  presup- 
posing an  idealistic  belief  in  those  absolute  standards  of 
eternal  values  by  which  we  can  discriminate  the  true  and 
untrue,  the  good  and  the  bad,  the  real  and  the  unreal."2 
"The  deepest  and  most  thorough  reconciliation  of  Science 
and  Religion  which  it  is  possible  to  conceive,"  says  another 
philosopher,  "puts  an  end  in  principle  to  the  unworthy 
bickerings  between  them  about  the  territories  of  each,  and 
the  futile  attempts  at  the  delimitation  of  their  borders, " 
permitting  "each  to  claim  the  whole  of  experience  — in  its 
own  fashion."  "Science  may  justly  deal  with  all  things 
...  so  may  Religion."  But  there  is  a  deeper  ground 
for  both,  since  "both  are  means  of  transmuting  the  crude 
'matter'  of  'appearance'  into  forms  better,  truer,  more 
beautiful  and  more  real."8 

Thus  it  may  be  said  that  the  religio-philosophical  critique 
of  science  has  on  the  whole  abandoned  the  old  super- 
naturalistic  ground.  In  other  words,  it  no  longer  attempts 
to  make  exceptions,  and  to  dispute  the  rule  of  natural  law 
in  specific  localities  of  nature.  The  integrity  of  science  is 
acknowledged,  and  whatever  criticism  is  urged  against 
science  is  urged  against  it  as  a  system. 

1R.  M.  Wenley:  Modern  Thought  and  the  Crisis  in  Belief,  pp.  78,  229, 
228. 

*H.  Miinsterberg:   Science  and  Idealism,  p.  70  (italics  mine). 

3F.  C.  S.  Schiller:  Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,  third  edition,  pp.  463-464 
(last  italics  mine). 


LIMITS  OF   SCIENCE  91 

§4.  But  the  old  warfare  between  science  and  religion 
has  not  wholly  ceased.  There  is  a  lingering  spirit  of  hos- 
The  Fallibility  tility  that  still  stands  in  the  way  of  mutual 
of  Science  sympathy  and  understanding.  It  appears  on 
the  side  of  science,  in  the  '  anti-metaphysical '  polemics 
of  such  writers  as  Pearson,  and  in  the  irreverent  animus 
of  such  writers  as  Haeckel.  On  the  side  of  religious 
philosophy  it  appears  in  a  disposition  to  disparage  science, 
to  belittle  its  achievements,  and  exploit  its  failures  and 
shortcomings. 

This  disposition  pervades  what  is  perhaps  the  most 
monumental  critique  of  science  that  has  recently  appeared 
in  the  English  language  —  James  Ward's  Naturalism  and 
Agnosticism.  While  this  book  aims  to  refute  naturalism 
rather  than  science,  the  author  nevertheless  repeatedly 
argues  from  the  incomplete  success  of  science.1  He 
points  out  the  "lacunae"  of  science,  such  as  the  gap  between 
the  organic  and  the  inorganic  realms.  He  reminds  us,  in 
other  words,  that  there  are  scientific  problems  that  the 
scientist  has  not  yet  solved!  He  suggests  contradictions 
within  the  body  of  scientific  truth;  and  dwells  upon  the 
uncertainty  of  scientific  hypotheses  that  are  not  as  yet  com- 
pletely verified.  As  if  all  human  knowledge  did  not,  at 
any  historical  moment,  have  its  residual  ignorance,  its 
outstanding  difficulties,  its  transitive  phrases,  and  its  haunt- 
ing doubts!  Indeed,  the  frankness  with  which  science 
has  avowed  these  limitations  —  these  penalties  of  human 
frailty,  and  risks  of  human  temerity  —  merits  confidence 
and  not  distrust. 

Professor  Ward  finds  evidence  of  the  unreliability  of 
science  above  all  in  the  fact  that  its  theories  must  perpetu- 
ally submit  to  correction.  He  quotes  Boltzmann:  "Today 
the  battle  of  opinion  rages  tempestuously.  .  .  .  What 

1  The  reader  may  be  interested  in  referring  to  the  replies  of  J.  E.  Creigh- 
ton,  and  of  Professor  Ward  himself,  to  this  criticism.  Cf.  Journal  of  Phil., 
Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  I  (1904),  Nos.  10,  12.  The  present 
writer's  rejoinder,  from  which  parts  of  the  present  text  are  drawn,  appeared 
in  the  same  Journal,  Vol.  I,  No.  13. 


92  PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

will  the  outcome  be?  .  .  .  Will  mechanical  models  in  any 
case  persist,  or  will  new,  non-mechanical  models  prove 
better  adapted,  and  the  component  factors  of  energy  con- 
trol absolutely  the  domain?  ...  Is  it  possible  that  the 
conviction  will  ever  arise  that  certain  representations  are 
per  se  exempt  from  displacement  by  simpler  and  more 
comprehensive  ones,  that  they  are  true  ?  Or  is  it  perhaps 
the  best  conception  of  the  future  to  imagine  something  of 
which  one  has  absolutely  no  conception?  "  And  the  author 
concludes  a  criticism  of  Principal  Riicker  with  the  com- 
ment, "after  all,  then,  he  is  only  defending  a  working 
hypothesis,  and  one,  moreover,  that  has  lost  greatly  in 
prestige  in  the  last  half  century."1 

Now  the  folly  of  such  arguments  lies  in  the  fact  that 
they  can  be  urged  with  equal  force  against  any  human 
pretension.  It  amounts,  all  of  it,  to  no  more  than  the 
hoary  commonplace  that  mortal  mind  is  fallible.  Any 
assertion  whatsoever  may  prove  to  be  mistaken,  even 
Professor  Ward's  criticisms,  and  the  "Spiritual  Monism" 
of  his  own  adoption.  This  fact  of  human  fallibility,  since 
it  may  be  urged  against  all  knowledge,  cannot  be  urged 
against  any.  It  justifies  a  certain  modesty  and  open- 
mindedness  in  thinkers,  but  can  never  constitute  ground 
for  the  rejection  of  any  particular  theory.  Knowledge  can 
be  disproved  only  by  better  knowledge.  If  a  specific 
scientific  theory  is  doubtful,  well  and  good;  but  it  can 
justly  be  regarded  as  doubtful  only  for  scientific  reasons, 
and  these  had  best  be  left  to  the  scientist  himself.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  if  variety  and  change  of 
opinion  are  to  be  urged  against  any  branch  of  knowledge, 
the  philosopher  of  religion  can  least  afford  to  urge  them. 
For  of  all  cognitive  enterprises  his  is  on  this  score  the 
most  in  need  of  indulgence. 

Where  the  general  fallibility  of  human  knowledge  is 
urged  against  a  special  branch  of  knowledge,  it  betrays 
an  over-eager  and  blind  partisanship.  An  apologist  for 

1  Naturalism  and  Agnosticism,  second  edition,  Vol.  I,  pp.  307,  314. 


LIMITS  OF  SCIENCE  93 

religious  orthodoxy  writes  as  follows:  "  Men  of  science  may 
be  right  or  wrong  in  their  deductions  from  the  fragmentary 
information  possessed  by  them.  Generally  they  are  wrong, 
as  is  clearly  enough  shown  by  the  fact  that  a  large  part  of  the 
work  of  each  generation  of  men  of  science  consists  in  over- 
turning or  modifying  the  theories  of  their  predecessors." 
Hence  "the  utter  futility  of  setting  up  the  deductions  of  the 
human  reason  against  the  assertions  of  the  Word  of  God."1 
To  such  ideas  as  these  Professor  Ward  virtually  gives 
countenance.  But  how  reactionary,  and  how  fatuous! 
Science  and  religion  are  both  institutions  which  serve  man. 
A  religious  believer,  since  he  is  a  man,  needs  science;  as  a 
scientist  needs  religion.  Hence  a  philosopher  of  religion 
who  seeks  to  discredit  science,  injures  himself.  He  abets 
a  domestic  quarrel.  There  can  be  no  victories  for  science 
that  do  not  promote  man  and  all  his  works,  including  relig- 
ion; nor  any  defeat  of  science  that  is  not  a  common 
disaster.  For  science  and  religion  are  the  supporting 
wings  of  one  army  engaged  in  the  conquest  of  ignorance 
and  death. 

§  5.  The  criticisms  of   science  to  which   I  shall  now 

invite  attention  avoid  in  the  main  both  the  obsolete  policy 

of  interfering  in  the  affairs  of  science  and  the 

The  Disparage-      .       .  ...  .r         ~   . 

ment  of  the       obsolescent  animus  of  partisan  strife.    Science 


*s  to  ^e  acknowledged  as  unimpeachable  when 
it  acts  within  its  proper  sphere;  and  is  admitted 
to  friendly  alliance  with  philosophy  and  religion.  But  it 
is  held  to  be  inherently  lacking  in  self-sufficiency  and 
finality.  It  presupposes  something  else;  and  that  which  it 
presupposes  is  more  fundamental,  or  more  'real,'  and 
confers  priority  on  philosophy  and  religion. 

I  shall  first  consider  what  may  be  regarded  as  the 
methodological  critique  of  science.2  According  to  this 

1  P.  Mauro:  "Life  in  the  Word,"  published  in  a  series  of  pamphlets 
issued  in  defence  of  Christian  orthodoxy,  and  entitled  The  Fundamentals, 
Vol.  V,  p.  47. 

'This  critique  is  intimately  connected  with  the  pragmatist's  attack 
upon  "  intellectualism,"  and  will  receive  further  treatment  in  Chapter  X. 


94  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

critique  the  concepts  of  science  are  'mere'  descriptions, 
and  the  laws  of  science  hypothetical  or  'contingent/ 
Science,  although  systematic  and  complete  in  its  own  terms, 
cannot,  owing  to  the  nature  of  its  method,  yield  reality.  Its 
findings  are  true  only  in  the  limited  sense  of  being  conven- 
ient. They  are  not  necessary,  but  only  expedient.  Like 
conventions,  with  which  they  may  be  classed,  they  are 
not  inevitable,  but  optional  and  arbitrary. 

It  is  significant  that  this  critique  of  science  is  based  upon 
the  acceptance  of  what  I  have  called  '  the  analytical  ver- 
sion' of  scientific  concepts.1  It  urges  against  science  the 
very  refinement  and  exactness  of  its  method.  That  which 
in  the  judgment  of  critical  naturalism  commends  science, 
and  justifies  its  exclusive  claim  to  the  title  of  knowledge,  is 
here  regarded  as  a  deficiency. 

James  Ward,  again,  will  serve  as  an  illustration.  This 
author  traces  with  admirable  lucidity  the  development 
which  such  conceptions  as  'matter/  'mass,'  'force,'  and 
'energy'  have  undergone  in  the  history  of  science.  He  finds 
that  these  terms  now  connote  factors  in  the  exact  calcula- 
tions and  formulas  of  science,  and  are  no  longer  charged 
with  the  vague  ontological  predicates  of  common  sense. 
So  far  the  author's  exposition  is  unexceptionable  and  in- 
structive. But  somehow  at  the  same  time  that  science  has 
been  growing  more  exact,  it  has  lost  its  hold  upon  reality. 
"To  distinguish  them  from  the  old  school,  whom  we  may 
fairly  term  physical  realists,  we  might  call  the  new  school 
physical  symbolists.  .  .  .  The  one  believes  that  it  is  getting 
nearer  to  the  ultimate  reality,  and  leaving  mere  appearances 
behind  it:  the  other  believes  that  it  is  only  substituting  a 
generalized  descriptive  scheme  that  is  intellectually  manage- 
able, for  the  complexity  of  concrete  facts  which  altogether 
overtask  our  comprehension."  To  this  symbolistic  version 
of  modern  science,  Professor  Ward  subscribes.  He  quotes 

But  it  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  pragmatism;  it  is,  in  fact,  employed  by 
the  great  majority  of  contemporary  opponents  of  naturalism. 
1  Cf.  above,  pp.  60-62. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  95 

approvingly  Karl  Pearson's  characterization  of  scientific 
laws  as  "conceptual  shorthand."  Or  as  he  himself  expresses 
it,  "the  conception  of  mechanism  enables  us  to  summarize 
details  that  would  otherwise  bewilder  us,"  but  "this  cannot 
possibly  nullify  our  independence."  "Such  conceptions 
may  furnish  an  admirable  descriptive  scheme  of  'the 
motions  that  occur  in  nature,'  but  they  explain  nothing." 
"In  short,  one  may  take  it  as  definitely  conceded  by  the 
physicists  themselves  that  descriptive  hypothesis  takes  the 
place  of  real  theory."1 

But  what  can  this  disparagement  of  description  possibly 
mean?  Is  it  possible  to  mention  any  motive  of  thought 
more  completely  governed  by  the  nature  of  its  subject- 
matter  than  the  motive  of  description?  Description  means 
the  reporting  of  things  as  they  are  found.  The  gradual  sub- 
stitution, in  the  procedure  of  Science,  of  description  for 
'explanation,'  means  simply  that  science  has  grown  more 
rigorously  empirical.  'Explanation,'  as  contrasted  with 
description,  suggests  a  reference  to  trans-experiential  powers, 
and  mysterious  essences,  or  a  one-sided  version  of  things  in 
terms  of  human  interests.2  Science  has  abandoned  explana- 
tion in  this  sense,  because  such  attempts  diverted  the 
attention  from  its  proper  subject-matter,  and  engaged  it  in 
irrelevant  speculation.  If  we  are  to  believe  some  of  the 
critics  of  science,  description  is  a  sort  of  game,  and  the 
adoption  of  this  method  a  sort  of  senile  playfulness  that  has 
overtaken  science  in  its  degeneracy.  It  happens,  however, 
that  this  descriptive  period  of  science  is  the  period  of  its  most 
brilliant  successes.  And  science  is  of  all  branches  of  human 
knowledge  the  one  in  which  caprice  is  most  fatal.  For 
science  is  engaged  at  close  quarters;  dealing  as  it  does  with 
the  proximate  environment,  its  findings  are  promptly  veri- 
fied, or  discredited;  its  day  of  judgment  is  always  near  at 
hand.  It  is  impossible  that  science  should  have  succeeded, 

1  James  Ward:  op.  «'/.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  304-305,  83;  Vol.  II,  pp.  251,  88-89, 

73- 

1  See  above,  pp.  53,  54. 


96  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

save  by  a  scrupulous  fidelity  to  fact.  This  is  what  the 
descriptive  method  properly  signifies.  It  is  a  discrimi- 
nating disregard  of  the  irrelevant,  and  a  single-minded 
renunciation  of  ulterior  motives. 

And  yet  Professor  Ward  would  have  us  believe  that 
description  is  somehow  arbitrary,  that  it  does  not  neces- 
sarily reflect  the  nature  of  things.  "To  suppose,"  he  says, 
"  that  the  rigorous  determinism  deducible  from  the  abstract 
scheme  —  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  has  been  put  into 
its  fundamental  premises  —  must  apply  also  to  the  real 
world  it  has  been  devised  to  describe,  is  just  as  absurd  as  — 
to  take  a  very  trivial  illustration  —  it  would  be  to  say  that 
a  man  must  fit  his  coat,  and  not  that  the  coat  must  fit  the 
man."1  As  though  a  coat  could  be  fitted  to  a  man  without 
the  man's  fitting  the  coat,  or  a  scheme  be  "devised  to  de- 
scribe," the  real  world  without  "  applying"  to  it! 

§  6.  But  what,  it  may  be  objected,  are  we  to  make  of 
the  formal  criteria  of  the  descriptive  method,  such,  e.g.,  as 
The  ideal  of  simplicity?  Is  this  not,  after  all,  an  aesthetic 
Descriptive  or  subjective  criterion,  a  matter  of  convenience, 
Economy  rather  than  a  revelation  of  reality?  Professor 
Ward  can  quote  scientists,  in  their  capacity  as  exponents 
of  naturalism,  in  support  of  such  a  view.  But  does  science 
justify  such  a  view? 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  within 
the  system  of  science  itself,  between  written  symbols  or 
signs,  and  the  concepts,  ratios,  and  laws  to  which  they  refer. 
There  is  evidently  a  difference  between  the  Greek  letter  TT, 
or  the  mark  \/,  and  what  these  signs  mean.  Signs  are 
conventions,  arbitrarily  chosen  and  agreed  on;  and  their 
abbreviation  of  complexity  is  a  matter  of  convenience. 
But  this  does  not  in  the  least  affect  the  status  of  the  things 
which  the  signs  mean.  Because  the  signs  which  I  use  in  the 
equation,  2  +  2  =  4,  are  arabic,  lower  font,  etc.,  I  am  not 
justified  in  concluding  that  the  numerical  equality  expressed 
is  similarly  contingent  on  the  choice  of  language  and  type. 
I0p.  cit.,  Vol.  II,  pp.  67-68. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  97 

Yet  this  confusion,  obvious  as  it  is,  has  played  no  small 
part  in  the  notion  that  descriptive  analysis  is  artificial  and 
unreal.1 

If  it  be  admitted  that  the  formulas  of  scientific  descrip- 
tion express  definite  logical  and  mathematical  relation- 
ships, whose  meaning  and  truth  is  independent  of  the 
exigencies  of  discourse,  it  may  yet  be  contended  that  the 
application  of  these  relationships  to  nature  is  arbitrary.  I 
can  only  reply  that  just  these  relations  are  found  to  subsist 
in  nature;  if  they  were  not,  the  scientist  would  not  account 
them  verified.  If  it  be  objected  that  nature  never  exactly 
corresponds  to  such  formula,  I  may  then  ask  for  specific 
cases.  And  when  the  disparity  between  the  case  and 
the  formula  is  pointed  out,  some  new  and  similar  formula 
will  be  at  the  same  time  exhibited.2 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  does  not  the  formula  always  leave 
something  out;  does  it  not,  for  the  sake  of  practical  con- 
venience, always  over-simplify  nature  ?  Of  course  it  leaves 
something  out.  In  empirical  procedure,  it  is  as  important 
to  omit  the  irrelevant  as  to  include  that  which  is  germane. 
And  it  is  further  true,  as  has  been  stated  above,3  that 
science  is  peculiarly,  if  not  exclusively,  interested  in  dis- 
covering identities  and  constants.  And  these  find  expres- 
sion in  the  formulas  of  science  to  the  exclusion  of  individual 
differences.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  this  procedure 
involves  twer-simplification.  For  that  would  mean  either 
that  the  formulas  omit  something  which  they  intend  to 
cover;  or  that  the  identities  and  constants  they  do  cover 
are  not  actually  present  in  nature.  But  neither  of  the 
charges  can  be  substantiated.4  Science  abstracts,  but  does 
so  deliberately.  And  to  abstract  is  not  to  invent  or 
falsify  —  but  only  to  discriminate  and  select. 

1  See  below,  pp.  232-234.    *  See  below,  pp.  236-237.    » See  pp.  54-55. 

4  Were  science  to  assert  that  nature  is  only  what  is  expressed  in  the 
formula,  it  would  be  guilty  of  what  James  calls  "vicious  intellectualism." 
As  a  matter  of  fact  science  makes  no  such  assertion.  On  the  contrary  it 
specifically  provides  for  individual  differences  by  its  use  of  'variables.' 
See  below,  pp.  234-235. 
8 


98  PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

It  will  appear,  in  short,  that  the  ideal  of  'descriptive 
economy'  is  not  a  fantastic  hobby,  but  a  canon  of  knowl- 
edge. The  discovery  of  this  ideal  has  not  debased  science, 
but  has  enriched  logic  and  methodology.  Through  adopt- 
ing it,  science  has  not  departed  from  reality,  but  has 
acquired  a  closer  and  more  sure  grasp  of  reality. 

§  7.  There  is  one  further  charge  against  the  descriptive 
method,  that  is  held  to  involve  not  only  physical  science, 
The  Option  of  but  logic  and  mathematics  as  well.  It  is  said 
Hypotheses  tnat  tke  choice  of  hypotheses  is  optional.1  Now 
as  respects  physical  science,  it  is  clear  that  this  option  has 
to  do  with  the  preliminary  stages  of  investigation,  and  not 
with  the  conclusion  finally  adopted.  The  trial  of  a  hypothe- 
sis is  optional;  but  its  success,  or  verification,  is  determined. 
Furthermore,  the  internal  relations  of  the  hypothesis  itself 
are  determined.  The  hypothesis  selected  for  trial  must 
be  logically  and  mathematically  correct. 

But  it  may  now  be  urged  that  logical  and  mathematical 
correctness  is  optional.  And  this  consideration  assumes 
a  growing  importance  in  the  light  of  recent  developments 
in  the  philosophy  of  mathematics.  It  is  often  said  that 
logical  and  mathematical  truths  depend  on  the  arbitrary 
selection  of  postulates.2  Time  will  show,  I  believe,  that  such 
expressions  are  one-sided,  and,  when  taken  unqualifiedly, 
misleading.  There  are  evidently  compensating  considera- 
tions. In  the  first  place,  no  logician  and  mathematician, 
however  modern  he  may  be,  invents  postulates  in  order 
to  build  systems  on  them;  like  the  physical  scientist,  he 
searches  for  the  postulates  that  will  determine  certain  facts. 
As  a  recent  writer  expresses  it,  while  postulates  are  not 
'necessary  from,"  they  are  " necessary  for;  namely,  for 

1  Cf.  e.g.  F.  C.  S.  Schiller:  "Axioms  as  Postulates,"  in  Personal  Idealism. 
Cf.  on  the  other  hand,  T.  P.  Nunn:  The  Aims  of  Scientific  Method,  Ch.  V. 

*Cf.  e.g.  E.  V.  Huntington:  "Sets  of  Independent  Postulates  for  the 
Algebra  of  Logic,"  Transactions  of  the  Amer.  Math.  Soc.,  Vol.  V,  1904. 
"These  postulates  are  simply  conditions  arbitrarily  imposed  on  the  funda- 
mental concepts,"  etc.  (p.  290).  Cf.  also  Poincare":  Science  and  Hypothesis, 
PP-  37-39- 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  99 

the  solution  of  the  problem." 1  So  postulates  are  in  the 
end  verified,  and  not  merely  chosen.  In  the  second  place, 
there  are  well  recognized  canons  or  criteria,  by  which 
postulates  may  be  judged,  such  as  'purity/  'consistency,' 
'independence/  etc.2  And  finally,  all  systems,  whether  the 
postulates  be  chosen  or  not,  are  made  up  of  terms,  rela- 
tions, propositions  and  implications,  which,  whatever  is 
done  with  them,  are  certainly  not  chosen  to  be  what  they 
are.  In  short,  here,  as  elsewhere,  thought  accommodates 
itself  to  things,  and  its  option  is  confined  to  selection  from 
among  them. 

§  8.  In  the  background  of  every  mind  that  hesitates 
to  accept  the  descriptive  method  as  valid  and  adequate, 

Th    'Real'          ^^   ^e   ^OUn(^   °ne   °r   ^°tG   °*   tne   n°ti°ns   °f 

Cause,  and  explanation  which  science  has  gradually  aban- 
'Mere'De-  doned,  the  notion  of  'power'  or  the  notion 
of  'good.'3  More  commonly  the  two  will  be 
fused  in  the  notion  of  'activity.'  This  is  regarded  as  the 
real  cause,  by  which  'mere'  description  is  judged  and 
found  wanting.4  It  becomes  a  question  as  to  whether  the 
development  of  scientific  method  has  thrown  light  on 
the  meaning  of '  cause ' ;  or  has  simply  abandoned  it.  The 
answer  depends,  evidently,  on  the  validity  of  this  extra- 
scientific  notion  of  cause,  which  science  once  employed, 
and  which  is  now  defended  by  the  critics  of  science. 

The  notion  depends  entirely  upon  the  inner  experience 
of  activity.  Fortunately  this  issue  cannot  be  argued  at 
length.  A  man  must  look  for  himself,  as  Hume  did,  and 
see  whether  he  finds  in  the  depths  of  his  own  nature,  a  power 
to  do,  which  is  clear,  simple,  and  self-sufficient.  He  who 
makes  the  experiment,  and  resolutely  declines  to  accept 
the  confusion  and  vagueness  of  familiar  immediacy  as 
profound  insight,  will,  I  believe,  conclude  as  Hume  did. 

lKarl  Schmidt:  "Critique  of  Cognition  and  its  Principles."    Jour,  of 
Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  VI  (1909),  pp.  281-282. 
*Cf.  Schmidt,  op.  cit.,  passim.  *  See  above,  pp.  53-54. 

*Cf.  e.g.  James  Ward:  op.  cit.,  Vol.  I,  p.  64;  Vol.  II,  pp.  79,  237,  247. 


100        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

He  will  find  sensations  of  bodily  tensions,  feelings  of 
expectancy,  etc.,  but  no  'power.'1  In  other  words,  he  will 
find  what  empirical  analysis  finds  everywhere,  a  manifold 
of  terms  in  relation.  And  when  one  proceeds  to  explain 
such  a  manifold,  one  will  be  led,  as  science  in  its  field  has 
been  led,  to  the  discovery  of  descriptive  laws. 

I  conclude,  in  other  words,  that  in  adopting  the  descrip- 
tive method,  science  has  exchanged  a  naive  and  hasty 
notion  of  cause  for  a  refined  and  rigorous  notion.  In  the 
sense  of  the  term  that  is  most  intelligible,  the  cause  is  the 
law,  or  its  implication.  Not  necessarily  the  mechanical 
law;  for  analysis  and  description  is,  as  we  have  seen,  by 
no  means  limited  to  the  type  exhibited  in  physical  science. 
But  a  logical  cause,  a  mathematical  cause,  an  ethical  cause, 
will,  I  believe,  turn  out,  in  each  case,  to  be  a  law  or  con- 
stant.2 And  if  this  is  so,  science  is  to  be  credited  with  the 
descriptive  method,  and  not  debited. 

§  9.  The  critique  of  science  which  has  just  been  examined 
might  be  termed  a  'methodological'  critique,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  'metaphysical'  critique  to 
which  we  must  now  turn.  According  to  this 
Time.  The  critique,  science  has  to  do  with  '  appearance '  or 
mentianArgU  'phenomenon'  rather  than  'reality,'  because 
of  the  nature  of  its  basal  concepts,  space  and 
time.  These  concepts,  it  is  argued,  are  inherently  contra- 
dictory or  lacking  in  self -sufficiency;  and  physical  nature, 
as  the  realm  of  space  and  time,  must  be  supposed  to  be  in 
the  end  resolved  into  something  else.  They  must  be 
corrected,  or  'overcome,'  in  some  higher  unity,  as  evil  is 
held  to  be  transmuted  into  good  in  the  providence  of  God. 

The  classic  prototype  of  this  critique  is  to  be  found  in 
Kant.3  According  to  that  writer,  space  and  time  are 

1  See  below,  pp.  261-264.  Cf.  Hume:  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Human 
Understanding,  Selby-Bigge's  edition,  pp.  60-73. 

1  For  a  discussion  of  the  application  to  ethics  see  below,  pp.  116-117. 

1  Bergson's  critique  of  time  is  a  blend  of  the  methodological  and  meta- 
physical critiques;  it  is  examined  below,  pp.  230,  234-235,  255-261.  For 
Kant,  cf.  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  Max  Miiller's  translation,  second  edition, 
pp.  328  sq. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  101 

vitiated  by  "  antinomies."  This  means  that  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  the  reality  of  space  and  time,  it  is  possible  to  prove, 
with  equal  certainty,  several  contradictory  pairs  of  theses 
and  counter-theses;  such  as  that  space  has  boundaries 
and  has  not,  time  has  a  beginning  and  has  not,  space  and 
time  have  indivisible  elements  and  have  not,  etc.  The 
moral,  according  to  Kant,  is  that  we  must  reject  the  original 
supposition,  and  deny  the  reality  of  space  and  time.  If 
we  regard  them  merely  as  acts  of  synthesis,  they  become 
indeterminate;  or  rather  they  derive  their  determination 
from  something  else,  such  as  the  subject-matter  to  be 
synthesized,  or  the  motive  actuating  the  operation  of 
synthesis.  It  is  like  saying  that  number  is  not  indepen- 
dently real,  but  is  only  the  operation  of  counting.  The 
question  as  to  how  many  numbers  there  are  will  then  have 
no  meaning.  There  will  be  as  many  numbers  as  the 
material  counted  requires,  or  as  any  one  has  occasion  to 
enumerate.  Similarly,  space  and  time  are  held  to  con- 
form to  the  subject-matter  to  which  they  are  applied,  or 
to  the  motive  governing  their  employment.  And  it  is  in 
terms  of  these  non-spacial  and  non-temporal  factors,  in 
terms  of  something  'higher'  than  nature  or  outside  of  it, 
that  the  world  assumes  its  final  shape. 

In  more  recent  times  the  supposed  paradoxes  of  space 
and  time  have  been  traced  back  to  a  more  fundamental 
paradox  involved  in  'term'  and  'relation.'  It  is  argued 
that  if  two  terms  are  to  be  related,  they  must  each  be 
related  to  the  relation,  and  since  these  interpolated  rela- 
tions must  again  be  related,  we  are  launched  upon 
an  infinite  regress.  Thus  the  English  idealist,  F.  H. 
Bradley,  is  brought  to  the  conclusion  "that  a  relational 
way  of  thought  —  any  one  that  moves  by  the  machinery 
of  terms  and  relations  —  must  give  appearance,  and  not 
truth."  l  Or,  as  his  disciple,  A.  E.  Taylor,  puts  it,  it  is 
in  some  "supra-relational"  mode  of  experience,  in  which 
even  the  concept  of  whole  and  part  has  been  transcended, 

1  Appearance  and  Reality,  first  edition,  p.  33;  cf.  Ch.  Ill,  passim- 


102        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

"that  we  come  nearest  to  experiencing  the  real  as  it 
really  is." l  Since  the  space-time  world  is  essentially 
relational,  and  affords  the  most  perfect  instance  of  the 
concept  of  whole  and  part,  it  is  thus  discredited,  without 
entering  into  the  further  difficulties  added  by  space  and 
time  themselves.  Since,  however,  the  critique  of  relations 
does  not  apply  exclusively  to  science,  but  applies  equally 
to  all  knowledge  employing  the  analytical  method,  one 
need  not  undertake  the  examination  of  it  here.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  Bradley's  view  has  been  repeatedly  refuted,  not 
only  by  "outsiders,"  but  by  fellow-idealists  who  are  in 
thorough  accord  with  his  general  philosophical  position.2 
A  characteristic  contemporary  revival  of  the  Kantian 
proof  of  the  unreality  of  space  and  time  is  to  be  found  in 
A.  E.  Taylor's  Elements  of  Metaphysics,  from  which  I  have 
already  quoted.  The  supposition  of  the  reality  of  space 
and  time  places  us  in  the  following  dilemma.  "We  must 
either  arbitrarily  refuse  to  continue  the  indefinite  regress 
beyond  the  point  at  which  its  difficulties  become  apparent, 
as  is  done  by  the  assertion  that  space  and  time  have  finite 
bounds  or  indivisible  parts,  or  we  must  hold  that  the  absolute 
experience  actually  achieves  the  summation  of  an  unending 
series."  But  "with  the  recognition  that  space  and  time 
are  phenomenal,  .  .  .  the  difficulty  disappears."  For  we 
may  now  say  "that  space  and  time,  being  constructions  of 
our  own,  are  really  neither  finite  nor  infinite  series,  but  are 
the  one  or  the  other  according  to  the  purposes  for  which  we 
use  our  construction."  In  other  words,  of  space  and  time 
per  se,  we  can  say  neither  that  they  have,  or  have  not, 
boundaries  and  indivisible  parts.  They  may  be  regarded 
in  the  one  way  or  in  the  other,  according  to  the  exigencies 
of  thought.  In  themselves  they  are  ambiguous.  And  we 
relieve  ourselves  of  further  responsibility  in  the  matter 

1  Elements  of  Metaphysics,  pp.  147,  153;  cf.  Ch.  IV. 

2  Cf.  below,  pp.  157-158.    The  best  refutation  of  Bradley  is  to  be  found  in 
James's  Pluralistic  Universe,  Appendix  A,  "The  Thing  and  its  Relations," 
passim.     For  an  idealistic  reply  to  Bradley,  cf.  J.  Royce:    The  World  and 
ike  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Supplementary  Essay. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  103 

by  concluding  that  this  ambiguity  proves  that  in  "the 
absolute  experience  "  they  must  be  "  taken  up,  rearranged, 
and  transcended"  —  although  "precisely  how  this  is 
effected,  we,  from  our  finite  standpoint,  cannot  presume  to 
say."  1 

§  10.  Now  what  shall  we  say  of  this  argument?  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  notable  and  significant  that  the  problems 
infinity  and  of  infinity  and  continuity,  which  underlie  the 
Continuity  'paradoxes'  of  space  and  time,  are  today 
receiving  marked  attention  from  logicians  and  mathema- 
ticians who  have  no  metaphysical  predilections.  These 
writers,  having  no  "absolute  experience"  to  which  to  rele- 
gate their  difficulties,  are  compelled  to  overcome  them  for 
themselves.  They  proceed  upon  the  naive  assumption 
that  since  there  are  such  things  as  infinity  and  continuity, 
whatever  place  they  may  turn  out  afterwards  to  hold  in 
the  universe  at  large,  it  must  be  possible  to  examine  and 
describe  them.  The  conclusions  which  they  have  reached 
may  for  our  present  purpose  be  expressed  very  simply.2 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  held  that  the  alternatives  which 
constitute  a  dilemma  for  Kant,  Taylor,  et  al.,  are  not 
strictly  coordinate.  For  the  objection  to  one  is  empirical, 
while  the  objection  to  the  other  is  dialectical.  Thus, 
for  example,  the  least  unit  of  spacial  extension  that  can  be 
observed  or  defined  is  evidently  divisible  by  two.  There 
is  no  gainsaying  the  fact.  On  the  other  hand,  if  one  asserts 
this  and  concludes  that  spacial  extension  is  always  divis- 
ible, his  opponent  cannot  point  out  that  such  is  not  the 
fact,  but  only  that  it  contradicts  some  preconceived  notion, 
such  as,  a  whole  is  made  tip  of  parts,  etc.  Empirically, 
then,  it  seems  proper  to  conclude  that  since  space  is  in  point 
of  fact  infinitely  divisible,  we  must,  if  necessary,  amend  the 

*A.  E.  Taylor,  op.  tit.,  pp.  260,  263.  I  have  discussed  this  writer's 
position  more  fully  in  Mind,  N.  S.,  Vol.  XVI,  1908. 

*For  full  details,  the  reader  may  consult  B.  Russell's  Principles 
of  Mathematics,  Ch.  XLII,  XLIII;  or  E.  V.  Huntington's  "The  Con- 
tinuum as  a  Type  of  Order,"  in  the  Annals  of  Mathematics,  Vols.  VI,  VII 
(1905)- 


104       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

notions  which  it  contradicts.1  In  other  words,  non-meta- 
physical mathematicians  and  logicians  agree  that  space  and 
time  are  infinite,  and  devote  themselves  on  the  one  hand  to 
the  description  of  the  fact,  and  on  the  other  hand  to  the 
removal  of  the  dialectical  difficulties  that  it  involves. 

Thus  it  is  contended  that  the  notion  of  a  whole  as  'made 
up  of  parts '  involves  a  confusion  between  the  notion  of  a 
whole  as  containing  its  parts,  and  a  whole  as  arrived  at  by 
the  successive  enumeration  and  synthesis  of  its  parts. 
The  latter  notion  is  subjective  and  accidental.  We  may, 
for  example,  define  a  line  as  an  infinite  class  of  points.  It 
is  true  that  a  line  cannot  be  'made  up'  by  adding  point 
to  point,  but  why  should  it  be,  since  we  can  define  it  as  a 
whole?  An  infinite  series  cannot  be  exhausted  by  the 
successive  enumeration  of  its  terms;  but  why  should  it  be, 
when  we  can  define  the  law  of  the  series?  In  other  words, 
there  is  no  paradox  in  knowing  an  infinite  whole,  once  we 
rid  ourselves  of  the  notion  that  to  know  means  to  take 
a  successive  inventory  of  the  content. 

Or  consider  the  ancient  paradox  of  motion.2  It  is  held 
that  Achilles  cannot  overtake  the  tortoise,  because  he  can 
cut  down  the  tortoise's  lead  only  by  an  infinite,  that  is, 
endless,  series  of  diminishing  gaps.  But  this  simply  means 
that  the  operation  of  overtaking  is  a  continuous  process.  If 
it  were  necessary  for  us  to  understand  this  process  by 
enumerating  every  least  phase  of  it,  we  should  never  con- 
clude, and  would  be  brought  in  despair  to  say  that  Achilles 
never  can  overtake  the  tortoise.  But  we  need  do  nothing 

1  It  may  even  be  necessary  to  conclude,  contrary  to  the  usual  notion, 
that  a  part  may  in  a  certain  sense  be  equal  to  the  whole.  Cf.  e.g.  Royce: 
The  World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Supplementary  Essay.  I  am  not 
sure  that  this  is  the  case;  but  it  might  be  the  case.  In  other  words,  the 
notion  of  whole  and  part  is  subject  to  correction  in  the  light  of  any  instances 
of  it  that  may  be  observed;  and  an  'infinite'  and  'continuous'  whole 
is  such  an  instance. 

1  For  an  interesting  popular  discussion  of  this  and  similar  paradoxes 
in  the  light  of  modern  mathematics,  cf.  James:  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy, 
Chap.  X,  XI.  What  follows  above  is  in  part  a  criticism  of  this  author's 
view. 


LIMITS   OF  SCIENCE  105 

of  the  kind,  since  we  can  define  the  particular  series  in 
question,  and  provide  by  formula  for  all  of  its  terms.  And 
if  it  be  objected  that  Achilles,  at  least,  in  traversing  the 
intervening  space,  must  successively  pass  through  all  of 
its  least  units,  we  may  reply  that  he  has  a  like  infinitely 
divisible  time  in  which  to  do  it. 

This  very  meagre  treatment  of  the  matter  will  serve,  I 
trust,  to  suggest  the  method  by  which  the  seeming  para- 
doxes of  space  and  time  may  be  dispelled.  Such  a  method 
serves  not  only  to  throw  light  on  the  nature  of  space  and 
time,  and  so  to  save  the  already  over-burdened  'absolute' 
from  the  necessity  of  assuming  entire  responsibility  for 
them;  but  it  also  justifies  space  and  time,  and  establishes 
their  reality  in  their  own  terms.  In  short,  if  science  be 
defective  or  limited,  it  is  not  because  space  and  time,  its 
fundamental  concepts,  are  unreal. 

§  ii.  The  most  important  critique  of  science  is  yet  to 
be  considered:  that  critique,  namely,  which  rests  on  the 
assertion  of  the  priority  of  consciousness.  Since 
this  assertion  constitutes  the  central  thesis  of 
idealism,  and,  as  such,  will  occupy  us  during 
the  next  three  chapters,  a  brief  mention  of  it  must  suffice 
here. 

In  his  book  on  Hume,  Huxley  writes  as  follows:  "If  the 
materialist  affirms  that  the  universe  and  all  its  phenomena 
are  resolvable  into  matter  and  motion,  Berkeley  replies, 
True;  but  what  you  call  matter  and  motion  are  known  to 
us  only  as  forms  of  consciousness;  their  being  is  to  be 
conceived  or  known;  and  the  existence  of  a  state  of  con- 
sciousness, apart  from  a  thinking  mind,  is  a  contradiction 
in  terms.  I  conceive  that  this  reasoning  is  irrefragable. 
And  therefore,  if  I  were  obliged  to  choose  between  absolute 
materialism  and  absolute  idealism,  I  should  feel  compelled 
to  accept  the  latter  alternative."  1  Huxley's  acceptance 
of  this  argument  is  very  significant.  For  in  the  great  con- 
troversies of  the  last  century,  he  has  been  one  of  the  most 

1T.  H.  Huxley:  Hume,  p.  279. 


106        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

distinguished  protagonists  of  science.  Despite  his  scien- 
tific affiliations  and  habits  of  mind,  he  was  prevented  from 
being  an  idealist  only  because  he  was  an  agnostic.  The 
"reasoning"  which  constitutes  the  chief  support  of  idealism 
he  regarded  as  "irrefragable"  —  in  common  with  the 
majority  of  the  philosophers  of  his  own  and  the  present 
generation. 

Science,  it  is  argued,  abstracts  things  from  their  relation 
to  knowledge.  Concretely,  everything  is  *  object'  for  a 
subject;  something  perceived,  thought,  or  willed.  This  is 
supposed  to  become  apparent  at  the  moment  when  one 
becomes  reflective  or  self-conscious — at  the  moment  when 
one  recognizes  the  central  place  of  that  'I'  which  is 
naively  overlooked,  or,  in  the  case  of  science,  deliberately 
omitted.  The  real  nature  of  things  is  grasped  only  when 
things  are  taken  in  this  context.  Viewed  in  this  light, 
the  world  of  science  loses  its  self-sufficiency.  It  is,  to  be 
sure,  internally  systematic  and  consistent.  But  we  are 
now  to  recognize  that  it  is  literally  the  world  of  science; 
formed  to  suit  the  purpose  of  scientific  thought,  and  express- 
ing, in  the  last  analysis,  the  capacities  and  motives  of 
knowledge.  So  it  is  to  knowledge  itself — to  sense,  thought, 
or  purpose,  that  one  must  look  for  the  root  and  stem  of 
reality. 

The  critical  examination  of  idealism  must  be  reserved 
until  we  shall  have  become  more  fully  acquainted  with  its 
grounds.  But  it  is  important  to  point  out  the  essential 
agreement  between  idealism  and  the  motive  or  standpoint 
of  religion.  We  have  already  seen  that  while  science,  on 
the  one  hand,  seeks  to  eliminate  the  personal  equation,  and 
to  banish  from  mind  the  hopes  and  fears  that  are  at  stake, 
religion,  on  the  other  hand,  makes  the  application  and 
draws  the  moral.1  Religion,  in  other  words,  is  essentially 
a  judgment  of  the  bearing  of  reality  on  life.  Now  idealism 
asserts  that  reality  is  grounded  in  life,  and  ultimately  con- 
trolled in  its  interests.  Idealism  not  only  construes  things 

1  See  above,  pp.  28-29. 


LIMITS  OF   SCIENCE  107 

in  their  bearing  on  life,  as  religion  does;  but  affirms  that 
such  a  construction  of  things  affords  the  only  true  insight 
into  their  nature.  It  not  only  adopts  the  method  of 
religion,  but  affirms  the  priority  of  that  method  over  the 
method  of  detachment  and  self-elimination  adopted  by 
science.  Thus  idealism  comes  to  be  identified  with  the 
institution  of  religion;  and  to  be  recognized  as  its  cham- 
pion against  naturalism. 

But  this  alignment  of  intellectual  forces  is  confusing 
and  misleading.  In  the  first  place,  idealism,  as  a  special 
theory,  acquires  unmerited  prestige  through  its  alliance 
with  religion — which  is  a  universal  human  interest.  The 
validity  which  attaches  to  the  interest  and  the  institution 
in  which  it  finds  expression,  is  transferred  to  the  theory. 
For  the  religious  method  has  its  incontrovertible  rights. 
Reality  does  have  a  bearing  on  life,  and  it  is  necessary  that 
reality  should  be  so  construed.  But  it  does  not  follow 
that  such  a  construction  should,  as  the  idealist  would  have 
us  believe,  take  precedence  of  all  other  constructions.  It 
may  be  that  while  reality  affects  life,  it  does  so  only  acci- 
dentally; for  philosophy  to  overlook  this  possibility,  by 
employing  the  religious  method  exclusively,  would  be 
sheer  bias.  To  this  bias  idealism  is  peculiarly  liable. 

In  the  second  place,  the  association  of  idealism  with  the 
religious  motive  tends,  as  we  have  seen,  to  encourage  the 
belief  that  philosophy  is  the  same  as  religion.  Idealism 
has  not  hesitated  to  identify  the  standpoint  of  philosophy 
in  general  with  its  own  special  bio-centric  doctrine.  But 
this  is  to  exclude  ab  initio  a  philosophy  which  shall  survey 
the  totality  of  things  dispassionately.1  It  is  to  beg  the 
question  of  the  place  of  life  in  reality  at  large,  and  thus 
commit  philosophy  with  reference  to  a  question  which  it 
should  treat  in  a  spirit  of  free  and  critical  inquiry. 

The  central  thesis  of  idealism,  to  the  effect  that  conscious- 
ness, especially  in  the  form  of  cognition,  is  the  creative  and 
sustaining  principle  in  things,  thus  obtains  a  certain 

1  See  above,  pp.  29-30,  40-41. 


108        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

adventitious  support  from  prevailing  ideas  concerning  the 
relations  of  science,  religion,  and  philosophy.  It  has  also 
the  support  of  certain  dialectical  arguments,  which  we 
shall  presently  examine.  The  outcome  of  that  examina- 
tion cannot  fairly  be  anticipated  here.  But  we  shall  find,  I 
believe,  that  the  arguments  for  idealism  fail;  and  if  so,  the 
critique  of  science  on  the  ground  of  the  priority  of  con- 
sciousness is  invalid. 

§  12.  'Are  we  then  to  conclude  that  science  has  no  bounds, 
and  that  the  claims  of  an  optimistic  religion  must  therefore 
Science  as  a  be  abandoned?  There  remains  a  very  simple 
Limited  Body  alternative.  Without  prejudice  to  the  truth 
of  Truth  of  science  or  to  the  vaiidity  of  its  methods, 
without  disparagement  of  the  reality  of  physical  nature, 
or  the  reduction  of  it  to  dependence  on  consciousness,  it  is 
still  open  to  us  to  conclude  that  science  is  not  all  of  truth, 
nor  physical  nature  all  of  being.  That  which  distinguishes 
such  a  critique  of  science  is  its  recognition  of  science  and 
nature,  as  they  stand.  They  are  not  partially  true  or  real; 
they  are  simply  parts  of  truth  and  reality.  And  the  other 
parts,  while  they  do  not  undo  or  transmute  the  fact,  may 
nevertheless  put  a  wholly  new  face  on  the  total  situation. 
They  disprove  every  claim  to  the  exclusive  truth  of  science; 
and  provide  a  balance  that  may  justify  religion. 

The  ground  on  which  such  a  critique  of  science  stands 
has  already  been  stated.1  Analysis  shows  that  physical 
science  presupposes  logic  and  mathematics;  or,  that  physi- 
cal reality  is  complex,  and  decomposable  into  more  simple 
terms  and  relations.  Physical  science  has  to  do,  further- 
more, with  certain  features  of  physical  reality.  It  describes 
the  quantitative  constancies  exhibited  by  physical  change. 
And  there  are  other  features  exhibited  even  by  bodies; 
such,  for  example,  as  their  control,  in  the  case  of  living 
bodies,  by  desire  and  will.  Thus,  being  is  neither  physical 
in  substance  nor  is  it  exclusively  mechanical  in  behavior. 

1  See  above,  pp.  82-84.  I  shall  resume  this  argument,  and  amplify  its 
religious  applications,  in  the  final  chapter. 


LIMITS   OF   SCIENCE  109 

Logic  is  prior  to  physics,  in  the  sense  that  it  has  to  do  with 
more  elementary  forms  of  being;  and  ethics  is  at  least 
correlative  with  physics,  since  what  it  describes  is  as  truly 
found  in  the  world  as  that  which  physics  describes.  And 
logic  and  ethics,  taken  together  with  other  equally  unim- 
peachable branches  of  philosophy,  not  only  disprove  the 
generalizations  of  naturalism,  but  afford  a  basis  for  religious 
belief. 

It  cannot,  I  think,  be  denied  that  naturalism  has  gained 
rather  than  lost  by  the  usual  tactics  of  its  adversaries.  It 
has  been  put  in  the  position  of  being  the  more  desirable 
alternative.  As  between  naturalism  and  the  traditional 
supernaturalism,  no  one  would  now  hesitate  to  choose. 
And  the  polemic  of  idealism  and  pragmatism  has  similarly 
enhanced  the  credit  of  the  very  object  of  their  attack. 
The  charge  of  failure,  the  attempt  to  make  capital  out  of 
the  fallibility  of  science,  has  reacted  upon  its  authors.  The 
attacks  upon  the  method  of  science  have  tended  to  create 
the  supposition  that  the  only  alternative  to  naturalism  is 
inexactness  or  unreason.  The  assertion  of  the  unreality 
of  space  and  time  has  not  only  failed  to  carry  conviction, 
but  has  given  rise  to  the  more  effective  counter-charge  of 
agnosticism  and  mysticism.  And  the  attempt  to  disprove 
naturalism  by  claiming  the  universal  priority  of  conscious- 
ness, has  driven  into  the  camp  of  naturalism  many  who 
shrink  from  the  paradoxes  of  subjectivism.  As  the  only 
alternative  to  supernaturalism,  obscurantism,  irrationalism, 
agnosticism,  mysticism,  and  subjectivism,  —  naturalism 
has  acquired  a  place  of  intellectual  distinction  which  it  does 
not  in  fact  merit.  The  greater  the  opportunity,  then,  for 
a  critique  of  science  that  shall  do  it  strict  justice;  a  critique 
that  shall  neither,  on  the  one  hand,  concede  the  extravagant 
claims  which  naturalism  makes  in  its  behalf,  nor,  on  the 
other  hand,  through  the  extravagance  of  its  counter-claims, 
produce  a  reaction  in  its  favor. 


PART    III 
IDEALISM 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CARDINAL  PRINCIPLE  OF  IDEALISM* 

§  i.  "THE  constant  presupposition  is,  that  a  spiritual 
life  which  is  a  unified  whole  is  at  work  in  the  depths  of  our 
soul."  These  words,  written  by  Rudolph 
Eucken,2  admirably  express  the  message  of  ideal- 
Modem  ideal-  jsm  to  modern  times.  Idealism  is  a  form  of 
spiritualism  in  which  man,  the  finite  individ- 
ual, is  regarded  as  a  microcosmic  representation  of  God, 
the  Absolute  Individual.  Man's  spiritual  nature  is  a 
revelation  of  the  principle  of  reality,  and  his  ideals  an  inti- 
mation of  the  perfect  and  eternal  reality.  So  that,  but  for 
his  limitations,  man  would  be  God;  and  taken  together 
with  the  balance  of  spiritual  life,  which  compensates  for 
these  limitations,  he  is  God. 

But  a  characterization  of  idealism  in  terms  so  general  as 
these,  while  it  helps  to  define  its  place  among  religious  and 
ethical  motives,  throws  little  light  upon  its  technical 
philosophical  meaning.  To  understand  this  it  is  necessary 
to  examine  its  method  and  proofs.  And  we  then  discover 
that  idealism  rests  fundamentally  upon  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge. The  supremacy  of  spirit  is  argued  from  the  theory 
of  the  priority  of  the  knowing  consciousness  itself,  over  all 
with  which  it  has  to  do.  All  things,  it  is  contended,  are 
primarily  '-objects';  and  to  be  object  means  necessarily 
to  be  'for'  something,  to  be  in  some  sense  the  expression 
or  creation  of  a  'subject.'  The  so-called  'external  world' 
being  in  this  manner  reduced  to  knowledge,  and  knowledge 
being  construed  as  spiritual,  the  supremacy  of  spirit  is 

1  Reprinted,  with  additions  and  alterations,  from  an  article  published 
in  Mind,  N.  S.,  Vol.  XIX,  1910. 

2  The  Life  of  the  Spirit,  trans,  by  F.  L.  Pogson,  p.  100. 

9  "3 


114        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

established.  This  is  the  reply  of  idealism  to  naturalism; 
and  the  justification  which  idealism  affords  to  the  religious 
belief  that  the  world  at  large  is  governed  in  the  interest 
of  goodness. 

The  assertion  of  the  priority  of  the  cognitive  consciousness, 
the  assertion  that  being  is  dependent  on  the  knowing  of  it,  may, 
then,  fairly  be  regarded  as  the  cardinal  principle  of  idealism. 
Only  in  the  light  of  this  principle  can  either  the  applica- 
tions of  idealism,  or  its  own  inner  dialectical  movement, 
be  comprehended.  I  shall  attempt  in  the  present  chapter 
to  throw  this  principle  into  bold  relief,  by  examining  its 
origin,  and  formulating  its  fundamental  proofs. 

§  2.  Modern  idealism,  defined  in  the  light  of  this  princi- 
ple, may  be  clearly  distinguished  from  ancient  idealism, 
or  Platonism.  Platonism  is  primarily  the  cul- 

Platonic  Ideal-         .  ,  .  .  «  .» 

ism,  or  Teleo-  mmation  of  a  tendency  which  manifested  itself 
logical  Ra-  among  all  the  pre-Socratics :  a  tendency  of 

tionahsm  ,  .  ••       i  .  .  f 

which  the  central  motive  was  the  assertion  of 
the  superiority  of  systematic  or  well-grounded  knowledge 
to  mere  opinion.  Thus  Parmenides  distinguished  between 
"the  unshaken  heart  of  persuasive  truth,"  and  "the  opin- 
ions of  mortals  in  which  is  no  true  belief  at  all."  Heraclitus 
remarked  that  the  truth  differed  from  opinion  in  being  one 
and  universal.  "Though  wisdom  is  common,  yet  the 
many  live  as  if  they  had  a  wisdom  of  their  own";  just  as 
"the  waking  have  one  and  the  same  world,  but  the  sleep- 
ing turn  aside  each  into  a  world  of  his  own."  l 

Similarly  with  Plato,  philosophy  is  primarily  a  means  of 
escape  from  the  relativity  and  conflict  of  opinion.  The 
philosopher  is  "he  who  has  magnificence  of  mind  and  is  the 
spectator  of  all  time  and  all  existence";  who  "will  not  rest 
in  the  multiplicity  of  individuals  which  is  an  appearance 
only,  but  will  go  on  —  the  keen  edge  will  not  be  blunted, 
neither  the  force  of  his  desire  abate  until  he  have  attained 
the  knowledge  of  the  true  nature  of  every  essence  by  a 
kindred  power  in  the  soul."  True  knowledge  is  marked  by 

1  Burnet's  Early  Greek  Philosophy,  pp.  184,  140. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF   IDEALISM  115 

the  kind  of  object  which  it  discovers  or  seeks,  "the  abso- 
lute, eternal,  and  immutable/'  or  "  the  things  themselves," 
which,  like  the  absolute  square  and  the  absolute  diameter 
of  mathematics,  "can  only  be  seen  with  the  eye  of  the  mind." 
And  this  insistence  on  the  objectivity  and  permanence  of 
truth  is  united  with  the  speculative  interest  in  complete- 
ness of  truth.  The  knowledge  of  the  philosopher  will  be 
not  only  unerring  in  point  of  certainty,  but  also  unlim- 
ited in  point  of  sufficiency  and  generality.  Thus  Plato 
represents  also  that  philosophical  tendency  which  has 
come  latterly  to  be  termed  'absolutism.' l 

So  far,  in  this  summary  of  Plato,  no  provision  has  been 
made  for  the  moral  element.  Plato's  'absolute'  is  denned 
as  the  good,  and  in  the  order  of  the  sciences,  ethics  is  ele- 
vated even  above  mathematics.  "The  excellence  or 
beauty  or  truth  of  every  structure,  animate  or  inanimate, 
and  of  every  action  of  man,  is  relative  to  the  use  for  which 
nature  or  the  artist  has  intended  them."  2  In  other  words, 
for  Plato  the  teleological  categories  are  fundamental.  And 
this  motive  doubtless  tended  to  contradict  his  rationalism, 
and  to  create  a  certain  affinity  between  him  and  those  very 
sophists  who  were  his  dearest  foes.  The  fact  remains,  how- 
ever, that  so  far  as  method  was  concerned,  ancient  idealism 
was  opposed,  not  to  physical  or  mathematical  science,  but 
to  the  laxity  of  common  sense.3  This  is  proved  by  Plato's 
high  esteem  for  mathematics  as  a  means  of  intellectual 
discipline,  through  which  the  philosopher  might  be  eman- 
cipated from  personal  bias  and  the  evanescent  chaos  of  ,. 
immediate  experience,  and  brought  to  apprehend  definite 
conceptions  and  fixed  principles. 

§3.  This  rationalistic  motive  —  critical,  scientific,  and 
speculative,  which  dominated  constructive  philosophy 
among  the  ancients,  found  a  more  complete  expression  many 

1  Cf.  below,  Chapter  VIII,  especially  pp.  167,  169-172. 

*  Plato's  Republic,  Jowett's  translation,  479,  486,  490,  510,  601. 

1  This  was  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  the  physical  and  mathematical 
sciences  themselves  were  not  wholly  free  from  teleology.  The  mechanical 
ideal  of  science  was  not  yet  developed.  Cf.  above,  p.  31. 


Il6        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

centuries  later  in  Spinoza.  But  in  Spinoza  it  is  so  far 
freed  from  all  connexion  with  teleology  as  to  provoke 
Rationalism  a  wholly  different  alignment  of  forces.  In 
5SCbyf  Tde"  the  famous  Appendix  to  Part  I  of  the  Ethics, 
Spinoza  it  is  argued  that  an  explanation  of  nature  in 

terms  of  final  causes  is  necessarily  anthropomorphic.  Man 
is  virtually  attempting  to  account  for  the  absolute  origin  of 
things  in  terms  of  that  value  which  they  have  for  him.  He 
assigns  as  reasons  for  the  being  of  things  those  reasons  which 
would  have  moved  him  to  create  them.  And  where  he  can 
find  no  such  reason  he  simply  imputes  one  to  God's  in- 
scrutable wisdom.  "Such  a  doctrine,"  says  Spinoza, 
"might  well  have  sufficed  to  conceal  the  truth  from  the 
human  race  for  all  eternity,  if  mathematics  had  not  fur- 
nished another  standard  of  verity  in  considering  solely  the 
essence  and  properties  of  figures  without  regard  to  their 
final  causes."  *  It  will  be  observed  that  Spinoza  prizes 
mathematics,  not  only  for  its  exactness,  but  also  for  its 
dispassionateness,  for  that  very  character  that  led  Plato 
to  subordinate  it  to  ethics.  The  philosopher  of  Spinoza  is 
not  the  guardian  of  the  State,  representing  the  good  of  the 
whole  rather  than  the  good  of  any  part,  or  even  the  lover 
of  the  absolute  good,  but  the  witness  of  those  inexorable 
necessities  which  make  no  allowance  for  human  ideals. 

Thus  in  the  rationalism  of  Spinoza  the  teleological 
principle,  derived  through  Plato  and  Aristotle  from  the 
humanism  of  the  Socratic  age,  and  reinforced  by  the  Scrip- 
tural account  of  the  creation  and  of  God's  dealings  with 
man,  is  replaced  by  the  principle  of  mechanism.  Science 
has  now  become  identified  in  men's  minds  with  the  quanti- 
tative laws  of  motion.  The  Copernican  revolution  had 
further  emphasized  the  meaning  of  the  mechanical  theory, 
and  brought  out  its  essentially  de-anthropomorphic  charac- 
ter, by  removing  the  Earth  from  the  centre  of  the  stellar 
system,  and  reducing  man's  historical  career  to  a  peripheral 

1  Elwes's  translation,  Vol.  II,  p.  77.  The  Ethics  was  first  published  in 
1677. 


CARDINAL    PRINCIPLE    OF    IDEALISM  117 

and  incidental  feature  of  the  cosmos.1  Man  was  now  of 
small  account  in  that  world  which  he  had  once  been  led  to 
believe  was  contrived  for  his  especial  comfort  and  salvation. 
If  the  religious  attitude  was  to  be  maintained  with  such  a 
philosophical  background,  only  two  possibilities  seemed  to 
remain.  Either,  as  in  the  case  of  Spinoza  himself,  the 
religious  consciousness  must  be  reduced  to  the  reason's 
approval  of  truth;  or  religion  as  a  whole  must  be  conceived 
with  Hobbes2  as  a  secular  institution,  used  to  pacify  dis- 
orderly men,  and  sharing  the  pettiness  which  under  the 
mechanical  philosophy  attaches  to  all  human  affairs.  But 
religion  of  the  former  type  must  be  as  rare  as  the  spirit  of 
renunciation  and  the  capacity  for  intellectual  mysticism; 
while  religion  of  the  latter  type  is  a  mere  convention  im- 
posed by  cynical  enlightenment  upon  servile  ignorance. 
Hence,  not  without  reason,  Spinoza  and  Hobbes  were 
singled  out  and  anathematized  as  the  great  prophets  of 
irreligion. 

Spinoza  and  Hobbes  do  not,  it  is  true,  adequately  repre- 
sent the  rationalism  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries.  It  was  on  the  whole  characteristic  of  these 
centuries  to  believe  that  religion,  even  Christian  orthodoxy, 
could  be  established  by  strictly  rational  means.3  But 
Spinoza  and  Hobbes  represent  the  rationalistic  spirit  of 
this  age  in  its  freest  and  purest  expression,  and  their  phi- 
losophies typify  its  logical  trend.  To  keep  one's  eye  single 
to  things  as  they  are,  to  yield  one's  mind  only  to  facts  and 
necessities,  seemed  to  lead  in  the  end  to  the  belittlement 
of  man  and  the  disallowance  of  his  spiritual  claims. 

§  4.  We  are  now  prepared  to  understand  the  service 
which  modern  idealism  offered  to  religious  belief.  True 
The  idealistic  religion  required  to  be  defended,  not,  as  in  the 
Revolution  days  of  Socrates  and  Plato,  against  the  preju- 
dices and  blindness  of  unthinking  men,  but  against  the  claim 
of  science  to  have  alienated  the  world  from  man.  Faith  and 

1  Cf.  above,  pp.  13-15.  *  Cf.  his  Leviathan  (1651),  Ch.  XII. 

*  Cf.  above,  pp.  32-34- 


Il8        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

revelation  had  been  left  unsupported  in  their  demand  that 
the  world  should  be  subordinated  to  spirit.  That  nature 
which  religion  had  conceived  to  be  the  handiwork  of  God, 
or  the  stage-setting  of  the  moral  drama,  or  at  most  merely 
the  principle  of  negation  in  the  spiritual  life,  threatened  to 
swallow  up  both  man  and  God.  A  new  philosophy  must 
redeem  nature  from  mechanism  and  restore  its  spiritual 
centre.  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  was  the  con- 
scious aim  of  the  idealists  and  their  forerunners,  or  that 
the  tendency  was  not  in  large  part  due  to  purely  theoreti- 
cal motives.  But  it  is  this  that  accounts  for  the  great 
human  importance  of  idealism,  for  its  stimulating  power 
and  widely  diffused  influence.  And  it  is  in  this  sense  that 
idealism  is  revolutionary.  Kant,  for  example,  compared 
his  theory  of  knowledge  with  the  Copernican  revolution  in 
astronomy.  He  proposed  to  assume  that  "the  objects 
must  conform  to  our  mode  of  cognition"  rather  than  that 
"our  knowledge  must  conform  to  the  objects,"  just  as 
Copernicus,  "not  being  able  to  get  on  in  the  explanation  of 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  as  long  as  he  as- 
sumed that  all  the  stars  turned  round  the  spectator,  tried, 
whether  he  could  not  succeed  better,  by  assuming  the 
spectator  to  be  turning  round,  and  the  stars  to  be  at  rest."  * 
But  Kant  did  not  point  out  the  fact,  nor  has  its  impor- 
tance ever  been  sufficiently  recognized,  that  the  idealistic 
revolution  was  virtually  a  counter-revolution,  through  which 
the  spectator  again  became  the  centre  of  the  system.  Nor 
did  this  counter-revolution  either  begin  or  end  with  Kant. 
It  is  a  movement  of  epochal  proportions,  supported  by  a 
wide  diversity  of  thinkers,  and  dominating  philosophy 
from  the  time  of  Berkeley  down  to  the  present  day.  Its 
central  motive  is  the  restoration  of  the  supremacy  of  spirit. 
Its  distinguishing  characteristic  as  a  philosophy  of  religion 
is  its  subordination  of  nature  to  God  by  means  of  a  prelim- 
inary reduction  of  nature  to  knowledge.  Science  is  to  be 

1  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  (1781),  Max  Midler's   translation,  second 
edition,  p.  693. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF   IDEALISM  119 

allowed  a  free  hand  in  nature;  and  having  annexed  nature, 
its  title  is  to  be  transferred  to  mind.  That  very  mechani- 
cal cosmos  which  had  served  to  belittle  man,  is  now  made 
to  glorify  him  through  being  conceived  as  the  fruit  of  in- 
telligence. God,  the  discarded  hypothesis  of  science,  is 
enthroned  again  as  the  master-knower  of  whom  science 
itself  is  only  the  imperfect  instrument. 

Thus,  while  the  burden  of  idealism  is  a  religious  interpre- 
tation of  nature,  its  cardinal  principle  is  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge. For  the  purposes  of  technical  philosophy  it  consists 
in  a  single  proposition,  to  the  effect  that  knowledge  is  an 
originating  or  creative  process.  Idealism's  claims  can  be 
substantiated  only  provided  it  is  true  that  to  know  is  to 
generate  the  reality  known.  It  must  be  proved  that  the 
being  and  nature  of  things  are  conditioned  by  their  being 
known.  In  what  follows,  the  attempt  will  be  made, 
amidst  the  confusing  motives  which  attend  the  history  of 
idealism,  to  keep  this  cardinal  principle  constantly  in 
view,  and  to  sift  and  test  the  evidence  with  which  it  has 
been  supported.  And  first,  let  us  consider  the  manner  in 
which  Descartes  and  Locke,  the  forerunners  of  idealism, 
prepared  the  ground  for  Berkeley,  its  founder. 

§  5.  The  strategy  of  idealism  depends  on  the  adoption 
of  a  certain  initial  standpoint.1  The  world  must  be  viewed 
The  Beginnings  under  the  form  of  knowledge.  Although  the 
of  Modem  precise  significance  of  the  fact  cannot  yet  be 
DuaSuc  v2_e  made  clear,  it  is  a  fact  that  everything  that 
sion  of  Knowl-  can  be  mentioned,  such  as  the  sun,  gold,  or 
Napoleon  I,  can  be  classed  as  an  element  of 
knowledge,  or  idea.  This  generalization  does,  it  is  true, 
require  a  qualification,  the  importance  of  which  will 
shortly  appear.  Elements  of  knowledge,  or  ideas,  im- 
ply a  knower,  which  is  not  itself  an  idea,  but  which  con- 
fers the  character  of  idea  on  what  it  possesses.  With  this 
amendment,  we  may  say  that  it  is  possible  to  regard  the 

1  The  dialectical  importance  of  this  starting-point  will  appear  later. 
Cf.  below,  pp.  127-128. 


120        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

world  of  all  mentionable  things,  even  the  Copernican 
plurality  of  worlds  with  their  inflexible  mechanical  neces- 
sities, as  comprehended  under  the  knower  and  his  ideas. 

Descartes l  adopted  this  standpoint  only  provisionally, 
but  the  difficulty  he  met  in  extricating  himself  from  it 
demonstrated  its  dialectical  possibilities.  When  you 
record  the  knower  and  his  ideas,  or  all  knowers  and  their 
ideas,  what  is  there  left  to  account  for?  Descartes,  of 
course,  thought  that  there  were  at  least  two  things  still  to 
account  for,  namely,  God  and  nature.  If  asked  whether 
these  too  were  not  ideas,  he  would  have  replied,  not  merely 
ideas  —  for  they  exist  also  in  their  own  right.  Neverthe- 
less, from  the  Cartesian  standpoint,  God  and  nature  are 
primarily  ideas,  that  being  the  most  certain  thing  about 
them.  That  there  are  such  ideas  is  indubitable;  that  they 
are  more  than  ideas  remains  somehow  to  be  proved  from 
what  is  known  of  them  as  ideas.  The  existence  of  God 
must  be  argued  from  the  idea  of  God,  and  the  existence  of 
nature  from  the  idea  of  nature. 

The  characteristic  difference  between  Descartes  and 
Locke  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  former  seeks  to  establish 
existence  (as  something  other  than  the  knower  and  his 
ideas)  first  in  the  case  of  God,  while  the  latter  seeks  to 
establish  it  first  in  the  case  of  nature.  Let  us  consider  the 
procedure  of  Descartes.  He  believes  that  he  escapes  from 
the  circle  of  the  knower  and  his  ideas,  through  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  idea  of  God.  He  here  employs  the  tradi- 
tional 'ontological'  proof,  according  to  which  the  idea  of 
an  infinite  and  perfect  being  implies  the  existence  of  its 
object;  and  further  argues  that  the  idea  of  God  possesses  so 
high  a  degree  of  meaning  as  to  require  a  being  of  like  degree 
to  account  for  it.  Once  the  existence  of  God  was  estab- 
lished, and  the  circle  broken,  Descartes  thought  it  safe  to 
infer  that  other  "clear  and  distinct"  ideas,  such  as  the 
ideas  of  nature,  were  also  representative  of  existence. 

Let  us  turn  to  the  case  of  Locke.     Nominally,  he  follows 

1  Cf.  his  Discourse  on  Method  (1637),  and  Meditations  (164,0),  passim. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE    OF    IDEALISM  121 

Descartes,  and  proves  God  before  he  proves  nature.  But 
logically  he  follows  just  the  reverse  order.  Albeit  with  a 
certain  becoming  hesitation,  he  sets  aside  the  ontological 
proof  of  God,  and  prefers  those  proofs  that  carried  more 
weight  with  Englishmen  and  deists  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury.1 God's  existence  is  proved  from  the  necessity  of  an 
eternal  and  intelligent  first  cause  of  nature.  The  problem 
of  existence  must,  then,  be  first  solved  with  reference  to 
nature.  And  here  Locke's  distrust  of  intellectualism  leads 
him  to  define  a  new  criterion.  The  ideas,  he  asserted,  that 
are  most  significant  of  existence,  are  not  those  that  are  most 
clear  and  distinct,  or  most  full  of  meaning,  but  those  which 
are  directly  imprinted  on  the  mind  by  an  external  cause. 
Existence  is  to  be  inferred,  not  from  the  import  of  ideas, 
but  from  the  circumstances  of  their  origin.  It  is  not  a 
question  of  proving  the  trustworthiness  or  representative 
validity  of  illuminating  ideas;  but  of  proving  the  extra- 
mental  source  of  vivid  and  forceful  ideas,  that  are  beyond 
the  mind's  control.  The  unique  case  of  such  ideas  is  the 
sense-impression.2 

Owing  to  this  difference  of  procedure  between  Descartes 
and  Locke,  there  came  to  prevail  two  notions  of  the  relation 
between  existing  nature  and  the  idea  of  nature.  According 
to  the  Cartesian  procedure,  existent  nature  is  essentially 
that  which  corresponds  to  the  idea  of  nature.  Accord- 
ing to  the  empirical  procedure  of  Locke,  on  the  other  hand, 
existent  nature  is  essentially  the  cause  of  the  idea  of 
nature.  In  the  first  case  existent  nature  must  resemble  the 
idea,  and  the  real  difficulty  is  to  distinguish  it  therefrom.  In 
the  second  case  existent  nature  need  not  resemble  the  idea, 
and  the  real  difficulty  is  to  give  it  any  real  character  or 
meaning  at  all.  We  are  now  prepared  to  understand  the  form 
which  idealism  first  assumed  in  the  writings  of  Berkeley. 

1  Cf.  Locke's  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding  (1690),  Bk.  iv, 
Ch.  X,  §7. 

1  Cf.  op.  cit.,  Bk.  iv,  Ch.  XI,  §  i.  "No  particular  man  can  know 
the  existence  of  any  other  being,  but  only  when,  by  actual  operating  upon 
him,  it  makes  itself  perceived  by  him." 


123        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

§  6.  Berkeley,  like  Descartes  and  Locke,  begins  with  the 
assumption  of  the  knower  and  his  ideas,  and  feels  the 
Berkeley's  difficulty  of  establishing  the  existence  of  any- 
Refutation  of  thing  else.  But  Berkeley  parts  company  with 
his  predecessors,  and  with  common-sense,  in 
concluding  that  the  difficulty  is  insuperable,  and  the 
attempt  to  overcome  it  gratuitous.  He  asserts,  in  short, 
that  all  existence  may  adequately  be  comprehended  under 
the  knower  and  his  ideas;  and  in  this  assertion  modern 
idealism  first  sees  the  light.1 

With  Berkeley,  as  with  Locke,  the  question  primarily 
concerns  nature.  Is  there  an  existent  nature  over  and 
above  the  idea  of  nature?  The  answer  may  be  formulated 
as  a  dilemma.  If,  as  Descartes  would  have  it,  existent 
nature  agrees  with  the  ideas  of  nature,  then  what  is  the 
difference?  But  if,  as  Locke  suggests,  existent  nature 
does  not  agree  with  the  ideas  of  nature,  then  what  is 
it,  and  how  can  it  be  proved  ?  Furthermore,  why  must 
a  thing  be  other  than  idea  in  order  to  exist?  In  the  case 
of  nature,  Berkeley  asserts,  it  would  appear  that  esse  est 
percipi. 

Berkeley's  argument  is  too  well-known  to  require  detailed 
restatement,  but  it  is  highly  important  to  discover  just  what 
it  proves.  That  Berkeley  believed  that  he  had  established 
idealism  is  beyond  question;  his  whole  religious  philoso- 
phy depended  on  a  reduction  of  nature  to  spirit.  But  it  is 
certainly  true  of  much  of  Berkeley's  argument,  that  while 
it  serves  to  refute  the  dualism  of  Descartes  and  Locke,  it 
nevertheless  does  not  establish  idealism.  There  is  a  halting- 
place  short  of  that  theory,  where  the  issue  is  altered,  and 
where  new  alternatives  arise  and  diverge.  Consistently 
with  our  purpose  of  disentangling  the  cardinal  principle  of 
idealism,  and  of  isolating  the  evidence  offered  in  support 
of  it,  we  must  therefore  separate  Berkeley  the  idealist 

1  Berkeley's  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge  was  published  in  1710. 
Malebranche,  Norris,  and  Collier  should  be  credited  with  original  contri- 
butions to  this  doctrine,  but  Berkeley  gave  it  its  prominence  and  classic 
form. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF   IDEALISM  123 

from  another  Berkeley,  who  is  simply  the  vanquisher  of 
dualism. 

The  dualistic  position  is  thus  summarized  by  Hylas, 
the  adwcatus  diaboli  in  Berkeley's  well-known  dialogue: 
"To  speak  the  truth,  Philonous,  I  think  there  are  two 
kinds  of  objects:  —  the  one  perceived  immediately,  which 
are  likewise  called  ideas;  the  other  are  real  things  or 
external  objects,  perceived  by  the  mediation  of  ideas,  which 
are  their  images  and  representations.  Now,  I  own  ideas 
do  not  exist  without  the  mind;  but  the  latter  sort  of  objects 
do."  *  In  attacking  this  position  Berkeley  first  shows  that 
whatever  answers  to  the  name  of  a  natural  object,  such,  for 
example,  as  "tulip,"  is  perceived  immediately,  and  hence 
is  idea.  Its  color  is  seen,  its  shape  and  size  both  seen  and 
felt,  its  odor  smelt,  and  so  with  every  quality  or  element 
that  is  attributed  to  it.  What,  then,  is  the  "real"  or 
"external"  tulip  "without  the  mind?"  And  what  ground 
is  there  for  affirming  it?  There  are,  Berkeley  believes, 
only  two  conceivable  alternatives,  both  of  which  are 
untenable. 

In  the  first  place,  one  may  contend,  after  the  manner  of 
Descartes,  that  an  idea,  if  it  be  clear  and  distinct,  is  a 
trustworthy  likeness  of  something  that  exists  "without  the 
mind."  But  how  can  a  thing  that  is  in  its  substance  or 
essence  non-mental  be  like  a  thing  that  is  essentially  mental? 
Surely  a  copy  which  must  necessarily  miss  the  essence  of 
the  thing  copied  is  no  copy  at  all.  Does  it  mean  anything 
to  speak  of  absolutely  invisible  color,  or  inaudible  sound? 
In  general,  does  it  mean  anything  to  speak  of  an  object  that 
is  like  ideas  in  all  particular  qualities  and  attributes,  and 
yet  possesses  a  fundamentally  and  radically  different 
nature?  By  means  of  these  and  similar  considerations, 
Berkeley  shows  that  a  non-mental  world  which  corresponds 
with  the  mental  world  but  never  coincides  with  it,  is  both 
arbitrary  and  meaningless.  And  is  it  not  also  gratuitous? 

1  Dialogue  between  Hylas  and  Philonous  (1713),  Eraser's  edition,  VoL 
I,  p.  414- 


124        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

This  raises  the  question  in  the  form  in  which  it  presents 
itself  to  Locke. 

For,  in  the  second  place,  it  may  be  contended  that 
certain  ideas,  sensations,  namely,  have  an  extra-mental 
cause.  They  are  forced  upon  the  mind,  and  are  not  of  its 
own  making.  In  this  Berkeley  is  empiricist  enough  to 
agree  with  Locke.  But  what  is  the  cause?  If  it  be  con- 
ceived as  matter,  then  it  reduces  itself  to  an  unknown 
substratum,  because  everything  that  is  known  of  matter  is, 
as  we  have  seen,  contained  within  ideas.  And  why  should 
a  cause,  to  which  none  of  the  properties  of  matter  can  be 
attributed,  be  regarded  as  material  at  all?  Since  here 
it  is  not  required  that  the  extra-mental  reality  shall  be 
like  the  ideas,  but  only  that  it  shall  be  their  cause,  why 
should  it  not  be  conceived  after  the  analogy  of  the  only 
cause  of  ideas  with  which  we  are  directly  acquainted, 
namely,  will  or  spirit?  In  this  case,  matter  or  physical 
nature  would  simply  coincide  with  perceptions  caused  by 
God.  There  would  be  no  matter  behind  appearance,  no 
duplication  of  known  matter  through  the  assumption 
of  a  likeness  or  prototype  of  it,  and  no  discrediting  of 
knowledge  through  the  assumption  of  an  unknown  and 
unknowable  essence. 

§  7.  Now  without  doubt  Berkeley  meant  to  assert  that 
whatever  is  content  of  ideas,  such  as  matter  in  the  above 
Epistemoiogical  sense,  is  necessarily  or  essentially  ideal;  its 
Monism  esse  js  percipi.  But  this  does  not  follow  from 

the  argument  as  thus  far  outlined.  For  it  is  entirely  possi- 
ble that  the  real  tulip  should  be,  as  Berkeley  argues, 
identical,  element  for  element,  with  the  idea  of  tulip,  and  yet 
not  require  to  be  perceived  in  order  to  be.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary to  conceive  of  idea  as  an  office,  or  relationship,  instead 
of  as  a  kind  of  substance.1  It  is  then  possible  to  suppose 
that  a  thing  may  occupy  that  office  or  relationship,  and 
thus  assume  the  status  of  idea,  without  being  identified 
with  it. 

1  The  view  adopted  by  pragmatism.    Cf.  below,  pp.  200-203. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE  OF   IDEALISM  125 

The  principle  involved  is  a  very  common  one,  and  never 
disputed  in  its  more  familiar  applications.  Thus  when  a 
citizen  of  the  United  States  becomes  President,  the  citizen 
and  President  are  identical.  There  is  no  'presidential' 
entity  substituted  for  the  citizen  —  no  correspondence  or 
representation.  The  simple  fact  is  that  a  citizen,  without 
forfeiting  his  citizenship,  may  assume  the  status  of  Presi- 
dent. But  no  one  would  think  of  contending  that  therefore 
being  President  is  a  condition  of  citizenship,  or  that  cit- 
izens are  essentially  presidential,  or  that  there  can  be  no 
citizens  that  are  not  presidents.  Similarly,  tulips  may  be 
known,  and  when  known  called  'ideas  of  tulips.'  There 
is,  as  Berkeley  justly  contends,  no  substitution  or  represen- 
tation, no  duplication  or  mystification.  The  tulip  simply 
assumes  a  certain  status,  definable  by  the  special  relation- 
ship percipi,  and  involving  no  forfeiture  of  its  nature  or 
identity.  But  this  does  not  at  all  imply  that  whatever 
assumes  the  status  of  idea,  must  be  idea  in  order  to  be  at  all, 
or  that  there  are  no  things  that  are  not  ideas.  The  confu- 
sion doubtless  arose  from  a  convention  to  the  effect  that 
mind  and  nature  are  different  'substances,'  or  different 
domains,  lying  wholly  outside  of  one  another,  and  therefore 
mutually  exclusive  in  their  content.1  It  would  follow  from 
such  a  supposition  that  whatever  belongs  to  mind  or  to 
nature  belongs  to  it  absolutely  and  irrevocably.  But 
once  this  supposition  is  abandoned,  there  is  nothing  whatso- 
ever to  prevent  a  thing's  belonging  both  to  nature  and  to 
mind;  in  which  case  it  is  impossible  to  argue  that  because 
a  thing  belongs  to  mind  it  therefore  owes  its  existence  to 
the  fact. 

Now  the  doctrine  which  results  from  the  rejection  of  the 
dualism  between  idea  and  existence,  but  which  stops  short 
of  idealism,  deserves  independent  recognition  and  a  name 
that  shall  distinguish  it.  For  it  is  accepted  by  contemporary 

1  Descartes  is  mainly  responsible  for  the  prominence  of  this  notion  in 
modern  philosophy;  but  it  probably  arose  mainly  from  the  emphasis 
given  to  "  the  inner  life  "  by  introspective  Christianity. 


126       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

thinkers  of  opposing  schools  and  can  therefore  be  eliminated 
from  most  present-day  controversy.  The  phrase  'episte- 
mological  monism'  has  the  virtue  of  suggesting  that  the 
doctrine  in  question  is  essentially  a  doctrine  about  knowl- 
edge, and  not  about  being  or  existence,  and  also  of  suggest- 
ing that  the  doctrine  arose  historically  as  a  refutation  of 
dualism.1  Epistemological  monism  means  that  when 
things  are  known  they  are  identical,  element  for  element, 
with  the  idea,  or  content  of  the  knowing  state.  According 
to  this  view,  instead  of  there  being  a  fundamental  dual 
division  of  the  world  into  ideas  and  things,  there  is  only 
the  class  of  things;  ideas  being  the  sub-class  of  those  things 
that  happen  to  be  known.  That  which  is  commonly  called 
the  'object'  of  knowledge  merges,  according  to  this  view, 
with  the  idea,  or  is  the  whole  thing  of  which  the  idea  is  a 
part.  Thus  when  one  perceives  the  tulip,  the  idea  of  the 
tulip  and  the  real  tulip  coincide,  element  for  element;  they 
are  one  in  color,  shape,  size,  distance,  etc.  Or,  if  one  so 
desires,  one  may  reserve  the  name  of  'real  tulip'  for  the 
whole  of  the  tulip,  as  distinguished  from  whatever  portion 
of  it  is  actually  embraced  within  the  idea.  But  in  this 
doctrine  nothing  whatsoever  is  asserted  or  implied  of  the 
tulip,  except  as  respects  this  particular  question.  Whether 
it  be  essential  or  accidental  to  the  tulip  that  it  should  be 
perceived,  and  thus  become  an  idea  —  whether  all  tulips 
are  ideas  —  is  a  wholly  different  question  which  must  be 
decided  on  different  grounds.  And  it  is  an  answer  to  this 
second  question  which  constitutes  the  cardinal  principle 
of  idealism.  We  may  now  turn  to  that  principle  as  it  is 
formulated  and  defended  in  the  philosophy  of  Berkeley. 

§  8.  Berkeley  only  infrequently  isolates  his  strictly 
Berkeley's  idealistic  arguments,  but  the  passages  in  which 
Proofs  ,<£ ideal-  he  does  so  are  of  the  greatest  historical  im- 
tion  by  initial  portance.  In  the  dialogue  to  which  we  have 
Predication'  aiready  referred,  we  read:  —  "That  the  colors 
are  really  in  the  tulip  which  I  see  is  manifest.  Neither 
1  This  doctrine  is  discussed  more  fully  below,  p.  308  ff . 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF   IDEALISM  127 

can  it  be  denied  that  this  tulip  may  exist  independent  oi 
your  mind  or  mine;  but,  that  any  immediate  objects  of  thb 
senses  —  that  is,  any  idea,  or  combination  of  ideas  —  should 
exist  in  an  unthinking  substance,  or  exterior  to  all  minds,  is 
in  itself  an  evident  contradiction." l 

Now  we  shall  understand  Berkeley's  meaning  if  we  can 
apprehend  this  "evident  contradiction."  "The  tulip 
which  I  see"  is  idea;  and  it  belongs  to  the  essential  charac- 
ter of  ideas  that  they  should  be  hi  mind;  hence  it  is  con- 
tradictory to  assert  that  "the  tulip  which  I  see"  is  exterior 
to  mind.  If  all  redundancy  and  qui vocation  is  eliminated, 
this  amounts  to  the  assertion  that  a  tulip  when  seen,  or 
denned  as  seen,  is  not  a  tulip  unseen.  But  what  Berkeley 
sought  to  establish  was  virtually  the  proposition  that 
the  tulip  which  I  see  can  never  be  unseen;  and  this 
does  not  follow.  For  it  is  not  contradictory  to  assert 
that  the  tulip  which  I  see  today  was  unseen  yesterday, 
or  that  many  tulips  are  "born  to  blush  unseen"  forever. 
Berkeley's  error  lies  in  his  inferring  that  because  the  tulip 
is  seen,  therefore  its  being  seen  is  its  essential  and  exclu- 
sive status. 

Berkeley's  reasoning  at  this  point  is  so  characteristic  of 
idealistic  reasoning  in  general  as  to  make  it  worth  our 
while  to  generalize  it.  It  does  not  occur  to  him,  apparently, 
that  a  natural  body,  like  a  tulip,  can  belong  both  to  the 
order  of  ideas  and  also  to  another  and  independent  order. 
In  other  words,  he  assumes  that  an  identical  element  can 
belong  to  only  one  complex.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  such 
is  not  the  case.  The  letter  a,  for  example,  is  the  second 
letter  of  the  word  '  man,'  and  also  the  fifth  letter  of  the  word 
'mortal';  and  it  enters  into  innumerably  many  other  words 
as  well.  It  possesses,  in  other  words,  a  multiple  and  not 
an  exclusive  particularity.  And  the  false  assumption  to 
the  contrary  gives  rise  to  a  specious  argument.  For 
having  found  an  entity,  like  the  tulip,  in  the  mental  context 
where  it  is  named  'idea,'  and  having  assumed  that  it  can 

1  Op.  cit.t  Eraser's  edition,  Vol.  I,  p.  406.    (The  italics  are  mine.) 


128        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

belong  to  only  one  context,  Berkeley  thereupon  defines 
it  as  idea,  and  concludes  that  it  is  such  exclusively.  But 
this  is  as  though,  having  found  the  letter  a  in  the  word 
'man,'  we  should  propose  to  define  it  as  'the  second  letter 
in  the  word  man '  and  so  to  preclude  its  occurring  in  any 
other  word. 

This  specious  argument,  involving  the  assumption  of 
'exclusive  particularity,'  may  be  conveniently  described  as 
'definition  by  initial  predication.'1  It  consists  in  regarding 
some  early,  familiar,  or  otherwise  accidental  characteriza- 
tion of  a  thing  as  definitive.  I  may,  for  example,  owing  to 
the  accident  of  residence,  first  learn  of  Columbus  through 
the  fact  that  the  Columbia  River  was  named  for  him; 
but  it  does  not  follow  that  'the  man  the  Columbia  River 
was  named  for '  may  be  substituted  for  '  Columbus '  in  his- 
torical science,  for  the  obvious  but  sufficient  reason  that 
this  characterization  is  not  adequate.  Similarly,  Columbus 
is  '  the  man  I  am  now  thinking  of '  —  the  fact  is  not  to  be 
impeached;  but  to  treat  him  as  such  in  all  subsequent 
discourse  would  be  to  assume  that  his  being  thought  of  by 
me  was  the  most  distinctive  thing  about  him;  which  is,  of 
course,  contrary  to  fact.  Now  idealists  habitually  con- 
strue things  as  'thought  of/  and  accordingly  name  them 
'objects  of  thought,'  or  'ideas.'  But  while,  as  we  have 
seen,  it  is  proper  to  say  that  it  is  the  tiling  itself,  and  not  a 
duplicate  or  representation  of  it  that  is  thought  of,  it  does 
not  follow  that  to  be  thought  of,  or  otherwise  known,  is 
either  necessary  or  important  for  things.  And  it  is  pre- 
cisely this  which  idealism  must  prove  if  it  is  to  justify  itself. 
It  must  prove  that  to  classify  things  as  ideas,  objects  of 
knowledge,  or  experiences,  is  the  most  fundamental  disposi- 
tion that  can  be  made  of  them.  To  classify  them  thus  at  the 
outset,  and  then  to  prefer  this  classification  to  the  many 
other  possible  ones,  is  simply  to  assume  the  very  thesis 
under  discussion. 

§  9.  Berkeley's  argument  assumes  a  different  form  in 

1  Cf.  also  below,  pp.  133,  158-162. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF    IDEALISM  129 

the  following  passage  taken  from  the  Principles  of  Human 
Knowledge:  — 

The  AT  ent  "But,  say  you,  surely  there  is  nothing  easier 
from  'the  Ego-  than  for  me  to  imagine  trees,  for  instance,  in  a 
centric  Predic-  park  Or  books  existing  in  a  closet,  and  nobody 

ament'  .          ,  J 

by  to  perceive  them.  I  answer,  you  may  so, 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  it.  But  what  is  all  this,  I  beseech 
you,  more  than  framing  in  your  mind  certain  ideas  which 
you  can  call  books  and  trees,  and  at  the  same  time  omitting 
to  frame  the  idea  of  any  one  that  may  perceive  them?  But 
do  not  you  yourself  perceive  or  think  of  them  all  the  while? 
This  therefore  is  nothing  to  the  purpose;  it  only  shows  you 
have  the  power  of  imagining,  or  forming  ideas  in  your 
mind;  but  it  does  not  show  that  you  can  conceive  it  possible 
the  objects  of  your  thought  may  exist  without  the  mind."  l 

In  other  words,  one  cannot  conceive  things  to  exist  apart 
from  consciousness,  because  to  conceive  is  ipso  facto  to  bring 
within  consciousness.  It  is  to  this  argument  that  Berkeley 
appeals  in  the  last  resort,  and  his  procedure  is  here  again 
so  typical  as  to  deserve  to  be  ranked  with  '  definition  by 
initial  predication'  as  one  of  the  fundamental  arguments 
for  idealism. 

The  argument  calls  attention  to  a  situation  that  un- 
doubtedly exists,  and  that  is  one  of  the  most  important 
original  discoveries  that  philosophy  has  made.  No  thinker 
to  whom  one  may  appeal  is  able  to  mention  a  thing  that 
is  not  idea,  for  the  obvious  and  simple  reason  that  in 
mentioning  it  he  makes  it  an  idea.  No  one  can  report  on  the 
nature  of  things  without  being  on  hand  himself.  It 
follows  that  whatever  thing  he  reports  does  as  a  matter  of 
fact  stand  in  relation  to  him,  as  his  idea,  object  of  knowl- 
edge, or  experience.  In  order  to  avoid  making  inferences 
unawares,  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  name  for  this  situation 
just  as  it  stands.  It  will  be  convenient  to  call  it '  the  ego- 
centric predicament.1* 2 

1  Eraser's  edition,  Vol.  I,  p.  269. 

1  I  have  formulated  and  criticised  this  argument  more  fully  in  an 


130        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

This  predicament  arises  from  the  attempt  to  discover 
whether  the  cognitive  relationship  is  indispensable  to  the 
things  which  enter  into  it.  In  order  to  discover  if  possible 
exactly  how  a  thing  is  modified  by  the  cognitive  relation- 
ship, I  look  for  instances  of  things  out  of  this  relationship, 
in  order  that  I  may  compare  them  with  instances  of  things 
in  this  relationship.  But  I  can  find  no  such  instances, 
because  'finding'  is  a  variety  of  the  very  relationship  that 
I  am  trying  to  eliminate.  Hence  I  cannot  make  the  com- 
parison, nor  get  an  answer  to  my  original  question  by  this 
means.  But  I  cannot  conclude  that  there  are  no  such  in- 
stances; indeed,  I  now  know  that  /  should  not  be  able  to 
discover  them  if  there  were. 

Again,  with  a  view  to  demonstrating  the  modification  of 
things  by  the  cognitive  relationship,  I  examine  the  same 
thing  before  and  after  it  has  entered  into  this  relationship 
with  some  knower  other  than  myself.  But  in  making  the 
comparison,  I  institute  this  relationship  with  myself,  and  so 
am  unable  to  free  the  thing  altogether  from  such  relationships. 

Again,  within  my  own  field  of  consciousness,  I  may 
attempt  to  define  and  subtract  the  cognitive  relationship, 
in  order  to  deal  exclusively  with  the  residuum.  But  after 
subtracting  the  cognitive  relationship,  I  must  still  'deal 
with'  the  residuum;  and  'dealing  with'  is  a  variety  of 
the  very  relationship  which  I  sought  to  banish. 

Finally,  just  in  so  far  as  I  do  actually  succeed  in  elimi- 
nating every  cognitive  relationship,  I  am  unable  to  observe 
the  result.  Thus  if  I  close  my  eyes,  I  cannot  see  what 
happens  to  the  object;  if  I  stop  thinking,  I  cannot  think 
what  happens  to  it;  and  so  with  every  mode  of  knowledge. 
In  thus  eliminating  all  knowledge,  I  do  not  experimentally 
eliminate  the  thing  known,  but  only  the  possibility  of 
knowing  whether  that  thing  is  eliminated  or  not. 

This,   then,   is    'the    ego-centric    predicament.'      But 

article  entitled  "The  Ego-centric  Predicament,"  Jour,  of  Phil,  Psych.,  and 
Sc.  Methods,  Vol.  VII,  1910,  No.  i.  A  part  of  what  follows  is  reprinted  from 
that  article.  Cf.  also  below,  pp.  133-134,  158. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE  OF   IDEALISM  131 

what  does  it  prove,  and  how  does  it  serve  the  purpose  of 
idealism?  It  should  be  evident  that  it  proves  nothing 
at  all.  It  is  simply  a  peculiar  methodological  difficulty. 
It  does,  it  is  true,  contain  the  proposition  that  every  men- 
tioned thing  is  an  idea.  But  this  is  virtually  a  redundant 
proposition  to  the  effect  that  every  mentioned  thing  is 
mentioned  —  to  the  effect  that  every  idea,  object  of  knowl- 
edge, or  experience,  is  an  idea,  object  of  knowledge,  or 
experience.  And  a  redundant  proposition  is  no  proposition 
at  all.  The  assertion  that  an  idea  is  an  idea  conveys  no 
knowledge  even  about  ideas.  But  what  the  idealist  re- 
quires is  a  proposition  to  the  effect  that  everything  is  an 
idea,  or  that  only  ideas  exist.  And  to  derive  this  proposi- 
tion directly  from  the  redundancy  just  formulated,  is 
simply  to  take  advantage  of  the  confusion  of  mind  by 
which  a  redundancy  is  commonly  attended. 

It  may  be  argued,  however,  that  the  ego-centric  predica- 
ment is  equivalent  to  an  inductive  proof  of  the  proposition 
that  all  things  are  ideas.  Every  observed  case  of  a  thing 
is  a  case  of  a  thing  observed.  Neglecting  the  redundancy, 
which  is  sufficient  of  itself  to  vitiate  the  assertion,  we 
remark  that  the  induction  proceeds  entirely  by  Mill's 
"  method  of  agreement/'  which  is  invalid  unless  supported 
by  "the  method  of  difference,"  that  is,  the  observation  of 
negative  cases.  But  the  ego-centric  predicament  itself 
prevents  the  observation  of  negative  cases.  It  is  impossible 
to  observe  cases  of  unobserved  things,  even  if  there  be  any. 
In  other  words,  there  is  a  reason  connected  with  the  conditions 
of  observation  why  only  agreements  should  be  observed. 
But  where  this  is  the  case  the  method  of  agreement  is 
worthless;  and  the  use  of  it  is  a  fallacy.  Thus,  I  cannot 
conclude  that  English  is  the  only  intelligible  form  of  speech 
simply  because  whomsoever  I  understand  speaks  English. 
On  the  contrary,  my  peculiar  situation,  as  one  acquainted 
only  with  a  single  language,  is  sufficient  to  discredit  my 
results.  If  I  should  discover  that  I  had  been  wearing  blue 
glasses,  I  would  at  once  discount  the  apparent  blueness  of 


132        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

everything  that  I  had  seen.  And  similarly,  the  general 
circumstance  that  in  observing  I  am  compelled  to  supply 
the  very  element  whose  real  ubiquity  or  necessity  I  am 
attempting  to  discover,  must  itself  be  discounted  or  cor- 
rected, if  I  am  to  draw  a  true  conclusion.  In  so  far  as 
the  idealistic  conclusion  depends  on  that  circumstance  itself, 
it  is  fallacious. 

§  10.  A  study  of  the  later  development  of  idealism  will 
disclose  the  fact  that  it  relies  mainly,  if  not  entirely,  on 
The  Cardinal  *^e  Berkeleyan  proofs  — '  definition  by  initial 
Principle  and  predication,'  and  '  argument  from  the  ego- 
ProSThCa*  centric  predicament.'  Despite  the  fact  that 
temporary  present  day  idealism  prefers  to  attribute  its 
authorship  to  Kant,  some  idealists  expressly 
credit  Berkeley  himself  with  having  established  the  car- 
dinal principle.  "The  truth  is,"  says  one  writer,  "that 
Berkeley  gave  the  coup  de  grace  to  all  forms  of  material- 
ism, when  he  proved,  or  led  the  way  to  the  proof,  that 
matter  (so-called  physical  reality)  is  a  compound  of  qualities, 
and  that  every  quality  turns  out  to  be  an  elemental  form 
of  consciousness,  a  way  of  being  conscious."  l 

But  it  is  more  usual  to  find  Berkeley's  proofs  restated, 
with  slight  variations  to  match  the  shade  of  the  particular 
idealism  which  the  author  represents.  For  the  cardinal 
principle  lends  itself  to  various  interpretations.  In  its 
general  form  this  principle  asserts  the  priority  of  the 
cognitive  consciousness;  and  it  is  therefore  capable  of  as 
many  diverse  formulations  as  there  are  diverse  conceptions 
of  cognition.  Thus  there  may  be  perceptual,  rational,  or 
volitional  idealists,  according  as  knowledge  is  held  to  con- 
sist essentially  in  perception,  reason,  or  volition.  And 
Berkeley's  proofs  are  capable  of  corresponding  formula- 
tions. With  some  of  these  diversities  we  shall  deal  in  the 
chapter  that  follows.2  Meanwhile  it  will  throw  further 

1  M.  W.  Calkins:  The  Persistent  Problems  of  Philosophy,  p.  400;  cf. 
pp.  118-132. 

*  Cf.  especially,  pp.  158-162. 


CARDINAL   PRINCIPLE   OF   IDEALISM  133 

light  on  the  meaning  of  Berkeley's  proofs,  and  illustrate 
their  wider  significance,  if  we  have  set  before  us  a  single 
contemporary  instance  of  each. 

The  use  of  '  definition  by  initial  predication '  appears,  for 
example,  in  the  common  habit  among  idealists  of  adopting 
what  is  called  the  standpoint  of  experience.  This  standpoint 
being  once  adopted,  and  the  meaning  of  experience  formu- 
lated, idealism  needs  no  further  proof.  Thus  Professor 
Baillie  writes:  "We  must  start,  in  other  words,  from  the 
whole  of  experience  as  such.  .  .  .  Now  we  take  experience 
as  a  whole  when  we  look  upon  the  subject-mind,  in  which 
alone  experience  exists,  as  the  centre  to  which  all  forms  of 
experience  refer  and  round  which  they  gather.  .  .  . 
Experience  always  implies  a  relation  between  two  distinct 
elements:  the  one  is  that  for  which  something  is,  and 
the  other  the  something  which  is  presented.  These  are 
the  so-called  subject  and  object."1  But  nowhere  does 
this  author  show  why  we  should  start  with  experience 
in  this  sense,  or  why  having  so  started  we  should  re- 
gard that  particular  aspect  of  things  as  essential  and 
definitive. 

When  idealists  do  raise  these  last  questions,  they  employ, 
as  a  rule,  the  argument  from  the  'ego-centric  predicament.' 
We  cannot  avoid  the  standpoint  of  experience,  if  we  are  to 
have  anything  before  us  at  all;  or  eliminate  the  relation  to 
a  thinking  consciousness,  if  we  are  to  think.  "Find  any 
piece  of  existence,"  says  Mr.  Bradley,  "take  up  anything 
that  anyone  could  possibly  call  a  fact,  .  .  .  and  then 
judge  if  it  does  not  consist  in  sentient  experience.  .  .  . 
When  the  experiment  is  made  strictly,  I  can  myself  con- 
ceive of  nothing  else  than  the  experienced.  Anything, 
in  no  sense  felt  or  perceived,  becomes  to  me  quite  unmean- 
ing. And  as  I  cannot  try  to  think  of  it  without  realizing 
either  that  I  am  not  thinking  at  all,  or  that  I  am  thinking 
of  it  against  my  will  as  being  experienced,  I  am  driven  to 
the  conclusion  that  for  me  experience  is  the  same  as  reality. 

1  J.  B.  Baillie:   Idealistic  Construction  of  Experience,  pp.  105,  108. 


134       PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

.  .  .  You  cannot  find  fact  unless  in  unity  with  sentience." l 
But  all  this  proves  no  more  than  that  finding  is  finding; 
no  amount  of  reiteration  or  verbal  alteration  can  ever  make 
it  prove  what  the  idealist  wants  it  to  prove  —  namely,  that 
being  is  finding,  that  in  order  to  be  or  to  be  what  they  are, 
things  must  be  found. 

It  is  doubtless  true  that  idealism  has  had  a  long  and 
eventful  history  since  Berkeley;  and  there  are  many  who 
would  maintain  that  idealism  did  not  begin  its  history 
until  after  Berkeley.  But  to  any  one  who  refuses  to  per- 
mit the  issue  to  be  confused,  it  must  be  apparent  that  the 
theory  with  which  Berkeley  startled  the  world  in  1710  is 
essentially  the  same  as  that  which  flourished  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  in  the  form  given  it  by  Fichte  and  Hegel. 
It  is  essentially  the  same,  in  that  the  agreement  is  far  more 
important  than  the  difference.  The  two  theories  agree 
in  asserting  that  the  cognitive  consciousness  is  the  universal 
condition  of  being,  or  that  to  be  is  to  be  either  knower  or 
known;  they  differ  in  what  they  conceive  to  be  the  funda- 
mental properties  of  consciousness  and  the  nature  of  truth. 
But  it  is  the  principle  in  which  they  agree  from  which  both 
theories  derive  their  philosophy  of  religion,  and  to  which 
both  have  owed  their  popular  influence.  And  this  prin- 
ciple obtains  both  its  simplest  statement  and  its  original 
arguments  in  the  writings  of  Berkeley. 

1  F.  H.  Bradley:   Appearance  and  Reality,  pp.  145,  146. 


CHAPTER  VII 
OBJECTIVE  OR  TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM 

§  i.  THE  militant  and  profoundly  influential  idealism  of 
contemporary  thought  traces  its  descent  from  Kant,  and 
General  Mean  on^  mcu'rectly,  if  at  all,  from  Berkeley.  The 
ing  of  Post-  phrase  'objective  idealism,'  in  the  sense  in 
Kantian  ideal-  wm"cn  ft  is  at  present  in  vogue  in  English- 
speaking  countries,  is  intended  to  suggest 
that  Kantianism  cures  Berkeleyan  idealism  of  a  malignant 
'subjectivism/  with  which  it  is  infected,  and  to  which  it 
must  otherwise  succumb.  For  to  reduce  external  reality 
to  the  several  percepts  of  the  human  mind,  as  Berkeley  did, 
is  virtually  to  reduce  it  to  that  transiency,  relativity,  and 
privacy  of  mere  opinion,  from  which  knowledge  must  per- 
petually seek  to  escape. 

According  to  objective  idealism,  Berkeley's  error  lay,  not 
in  his  reduction  of  external  reality  to  mind;  but  in  his 
failure  to  recognize  that  the  mind  here  in  question  is  not 
the  human  mind  of  psychology,  but  a  universal  mind,  or 
a  subject  of  knowledge  in  general,  endowed  with  the  princi- 
ples of  logic.  The  central  conception  of  objective  idealism, 
in  other  words,  is  the  conception  of  a  super-personal,  or 
impersonal,  logical  consciousness.  This  consciousness  con- 
ditions being;  and  its  enactments  are  binding  on  the 
individual  thinker,  as  his  'objective'  reality.1  Thus 
objective  idealism  does  not  propose  to  reject  the  cardinal 
principle  of  Berkeleyan  idealism,  but  rather  to  correct  and 
improve  upon  it.  It  is  only  when  viewed  in  this  light  that 
its  inner  dialectic  can  be  understood.  In  the  account 

1  As  is  well  known,  Berkeley  himself  anticipated  this  theory  in  his  con- 
ception of  the  divine  mind.    But  that  which  to  Berkeley  was  an  after- 
thought, never  satisfactorily  reconciled  with  his  first  principles,  becomes 
in  objective  idealism  the  central  motive. 
135 


136        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

which  follows,  I  shall  consequently  seek  to  discover  not 
only  whether  objective  idealism  does  actually  succeed  in 
avoiding  the  pitfall  of  'subjectivism/  but  also  whether  it 
in  any  way  strengthens  the  case  for  idealism  by  reinforcing 
Berkeley's  original  proofs,  or  by  adding  new  proofs  of  its 
own. 

Kant's  contribution  to  objective  idealism  consisted  in 
his  discovery  of  certain  'categories,'  or  forms  of  thought, 
which  he  held  to  be  the  universal  prerequisites  of  knowl- 
edge. He  employed  the  term  '  transcendental '  to  indicate 
the  peculiar  status  of  these  categories,  and  the  metaphysics 
of  his  followers  thus  derives  the  name  'transcendental 
idealism/  or  'transcendentalism.'1  As  a  rehabilitation  of 
rationalism,  this  view  was  opposed  to  the  whole  empirical 
movement  which  had  emanated  from  Locke  and  which 
dominated  the  thought  of  the  eighteenth  century.  But 
it  was  opposed  more  particularly  to  the  fatal  consequences 
of  empiricism  as  exhibited  in  the  hopeless  predicament  of 
Hume.  This  writer  was  at  the  beginning,  as  he  has 
remained  ever  since,  the  awful  warning  to  all  who  would 
stray  from  the  path  of  Kantian  rectitude.  We  must, 
therefore,  begin  our  review  of  Kantianism  with  a  brief 
account  of  this  unbeliever  who  perished  for  lack  of  the 
gospel. 

§  2.  Hume's  sceptical  predicament  was  the  sequel  to  his 
criticism  of  Berkeley.  He  showed  that  although  Berkeley 
The  Sceptical  had  successfully  vanquished  the  older  dual- 
Crisis  in  Hume  jsm  between  ideas  and  material  substance, 
he  had  at  the  same  time  given  fresh  emphasis  to 
another  dualism,  that  between  ideas  and  spiritual 
substance.  "Besides  all  that  endless  variety  of  ideas 
or  objects  of  knowledge,  there  is  likewise  Something 
which  knows  or  perceives  them;  and  exercises  divers  opera- 

1  I  do  not  mean,  of  course,  to  imply  that  Kant  himself  is  a  metaphysician, 
or  even  that  all  of  his  followers  are  metaphysicians.  It  is  possible  to  be 
a  Kantian,  and  yet  not  be  an  idealist  in  the  sense  intended  in  the  present 
chapter.  Cf.  below,  pp.  144-148. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  137 

tions,  as  willing,  imagining,  remembering,  about  them. 
This  perceiving,  active,  being,"  says  Berkeley,  "is  what  I 
call  mind,  spirit,  soul,  or  myself"  But  spirit  is  not  strictly 
speaking  an  object  of  knowledge.  "  Such  is  the  nature  of 
Spirit,  or  that  which  acts,  that  it  cannot  be  of  itself  per- 
ceived, but  only  by  the  effects  which  it  produceth."  l  And 
the  status  thus  assigned  to  spirit  corresponds  almost  exactly 
to  that  possessed  by  matter  in  the  traditional  view  which 
Berkeley  had  himself  discredited;  so  that  the  same  dilemma 
may  be  urged  against  it.  Spirit,  like  matter,  must  either 
come  within  knowledge  or  fall  outside  it.  If  it  comes 
within  knowledge  it  coincides  with  some  idea  or  group  of 
ideas;  if  it  falls  outside  of  knowledge,  as  a  mere  "producer" 
of  ideas,  it  is  arbitrary  and  meaningless.  Hume  adopts 
the  former  alternative  with  reference  to  spirit,  precisely 
as  Berkeley  had  adopted  it  with  reference  to  matter:  with 
the  result  that  both  spirit  and  matter  are  reduced  to  one 
manifold  of  ideas. 

The  question  now  arises  as  to  the  propriety  of  the  term 
'  idea,'  as  applied  to  these  common  elements  to  which  both 
spirit  and  matter  have  been  reduced.  If  spirit  be  defined 
as  a  group  of  ideas,  then  it  is  clear  that  ideas  themselves 
cannot  be  defined  in  terms  of  spirit.  They  become  simply 
elements  or  qualities.  Hume  felt  the  force  of  this  considera- 
tion, and  it  led  him  to  the  tentative  supposition  that  per- 
ceptions can  exist  apart  from  the  mind.  Had  he  adopted 
and  fortified  this  view,  he  would  have  been  the  founder  of 
a  new  realism,  instead  of  a  link  in  the  development  of 
idealism.  He  rejected  the  view,  however,  summarily  and 
unequivocally.  He  attributed  his  rejection  of  it  to  "  those 
experiments  which  convince  us  that  our  perceptions  are 
not  possessed  of  any  independent  existence,"  such  as  the 
displacement  of  the  field  of  vision  by  pressure  on  the  eye- 
ball. These  and  kindred  phenomena,  such  as  color- 
blindness, are  cited  to  prove  that  "all  our  perceptions  are 

1  Berkeley:  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Fraser's  edition,  Vol.  I, 
pp.  258,  372. 


138        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

dependent  on  our  organs,  and  the  disposition  of  our  nerves 
and  animal  spirits."  l  But  since  Hume  has  led  us  to 
suppose  that  our  bodies  themselves  along  with  the  rest  of 
physical  nature  are  no  more  than  perceptions,  he  cannot 
properly  argue  that  perceptions  in  general  are  dependent 
on  the  body.  If  relativity  is  to  be  advanced  as  an  argu- 
ment for  idealism,  it  must  be,  not  a  relativity  of  ideas 
to  body,  but  of  body  to  ideas.  And  this  relativity 
must  be  proved,  if  it  is  to  be  proved  at  all,  by  Berkeleyan 
methods. 

Hume  was  especially  influenced,  I  think,  by  the  error  of 
'exclusive  particularity.'  He  agreed  with  Berkeley  that  the 
elements  of  physical  nature  are  the  same  as  those  of  mental 
states;  and  advanced  beyond  Berkeley  in  reaching  the  same 
conclusion  concerning  spiritual  nature.  He  found,  in  short, 
that  the  traditional  substances,  material  and  spiritual,  are 
made  up  from  the  same  manifold  of  elements.  But  instead 
of  recognizing  their  interchangeable  character,  he  named 
these  elements,  following  Berkeley,  after  one  of  the  roles  in 
which  they  appear.  Finding  them  in  the  succession  of  the 
individual's  mental  states,  he  identified  them  with  this 
order,  and  regarded  them  as  belonging  to  it  essentially 
and  exclusively.  The  result  is  Hume's  radical  phenome- 
nalism, or  psychologism.  To  be  is  to  be  a  particular 
mental  state;  and  a  particular  mental  state  has  no  being 
whatsoever,  other  than  its  momentary  presence.  To  be 
perceived  or  thought,  to  occur  in  consciousness,  is  to  come 
into  being;  and  to  lapse  from  consciousness  is  to  cease  to 
be.  There  can  be  no  permanence,  and  no  sameness,  because 
each  unit  of  existence  belongs  wholly  and  exclusively  to 
the  moment  of  its  occurrence  in  consciousness.  The  world 
consists,  in  short,  of  the  coexistence  and  succession  of 
unique  individuals  which  instantly  arise  and  instantly 
perish. 

Hume  not  improperly  regarded  this  outcome  as  equiva- 

1  Hume:  Treatise  of  Human  Nature  (1739),  Selby-Bigge's  edition,  pp. 
207,  3I&-2I i.  Cf.  below,  pp.  306-307. 


OBJECTIVE    IDEALISM  139 

lent  to  scepticism.  It  is,  he  thinks,  the  only  conclusion 
that  can  consistently  be  reached  on  strict  theoretical 
grounds.  Nevertheless  it  is  impossible  for  the  ordinary 
man,  or  even  for  the  philosopher  in  his  ordinary  moods, 
to  believe  it.  The  difficulty,  according  to  Hume,  is  essen- 
tially a  practical  one.  In  order  to  live,  it  is  necessary  to 
regard  the  environment  as  having  sameness  and  perma- 
nence; it  is  necessary  to  assume  that  one  may  have  dealings 
at  different  times  with  an  identical  object,  and  that  the 
objects  on  which  one  acts  persist  in  one's  absence.  Such 
suppositions  concerning  the  external  world  provide  the 
orientation  which  is  necessary  for  action.  But  in  Hume's 
opinion  they  cannot  be  justified  theoretically.  "  Careless- 
ness and  inattention  alone  can  afford  us  any  remedy."  l 

§  3.  Kant  agreed  with  Hume  that  the  situation  just 
described  was  practically  intolerable,  but  added  that 
it  was  theoretically  intolerable  as  well.  And  it  is  not  only 
Kant  to  the  contradicted  by  the  whole  body  of  existing 
Rescue.  The  science,  but  it  is  also  5^/-contradictory.  For 

'Categories  ,•>        n  •        v  j  j.   i 

and 'Synthetic  the  flux  implies  an  order  —  at  least  a  tem- 
Unity'  poral  successiveness  —  which  cannot  be  con- 

tained within  any  merely  momentary  state.  Furthermore, 
Hume's  whole  procedure  implies  that  this  general  flux- 
character  of  things  can  be  known  by  various  knowers  at 
various  times;  so  that  this,  at  least,  must  possess  sameness 
and  permanence.  In  other  words,  without  order,  same- 
ness and  permanence ,  no  knowledge  whatever  is  possible  — 
not  even  knowledge  enough  to  warrant  scepticism. 

Kant  doubtless  rendered  a  service  to  all  subsequent 
thinkers  in  proving  the  necessity  of  the  principles  of  order, 
sameness,  and  permanence.  Any  object  or  world  whatso- 
ever must  possess,  in  some  measure,  the  structure  and  de- 
terminateness  which  such  'categories'  can  alone  supply. 
But  the  status  which  Kant  assigned  to  them,  is  another  and 
more  doubtful  matter. 

Let  us  consider,  first,  the  alternative  which  he  neglected. 

*  Hume:    op.  cit.,  p.  218. 


140        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

Avoiding  the  error  of  Hume,  he  might  have  declined  to 
identify  the  elements  of  experience  with  the  experience- 
manifold  exclusively.  Had  he  adopted  this  course,  his 
deduction  of  the  categories  would  have  amounted  to  prov- 
ing that  the  elements  of  experience  do  stand  in  other  orders 
besides  the  order  of  their  successive  and  transient  appear- 
ance; and  that  there  are  principles  of  order,  such  as  space, 
time,  substance,  and  causality,  which  cannot  be  identified 
with  any  of  the  particular  transient  appearances  that  pre- 
suppose them.  In  this  case,  neither  physical  nature  nor 
the  categories  would  have  been  construed  as  in  any  sense 
mental. 

But  Kant  did  not  adopt  this  course.  With  Hume  and 
Berkeley,  he  regarded  the  terms  of  experience  as  essentially 
"phenomena"  or  "representations."  "They  form  an 
object  that  is  within  us  only,  because  a  mere  modification 
of  our  sensibility  can  never  exist  outside  us."  Then, 
recognizing  that  the  merely  psychological  order  of  Hume 
presupposed  a  more  fundamental  physical  order,  he  re- 
garded this  also  as  an  order  of  phenomena  or  representa- 
tions, and  its  principles  as  forms  of  consciousness.  "The 
very  idea  that  all  these  phenomena,  and  therefore  all 
objects  with  which  we  have  to  deal,  are  altogether  within 
me,  or  determinations  of  my  own  identical  self,  implies  by 
itself  the  necessity  of  a  permanent  unity  of  them  in  one 
and  the  same  apperception."  The  order,  in  other  words, 
borrows  a  mental  character  from  its  terms.  A  unity  of 
phenomena  will  be  a  unity  of  "apperception."  The  new 
order  is  not,  it  is  true,  mental  in  the  psychological  sense. 
But  this  leads  not  to  the  denial  of  its  mental  character 
altogether,  but  to  the  new  conception  of  a  non- psychological 
or  logical  mind. 

A  second  reason  for  Kant's  version  of  the  categories  is 
his  theory  that  a  priori  or  necessary  knowledge  can  be 
possible  only  on  the  supposition  that  knowledge  dictates 
to  its  objects.1  "If  the  objects  with  which  our  knowledge 

1  For  a  criticism  of  this  view,  cf.  below,  p.  160. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  141 

has  to  deal  were  things  by  themselves,  we  could  have  no 
concepts  a  priori  of  them."  To  be  able  to  know  beyond 
the  present  experience,  to  be  able  to  know  universally, 
implies  that  knowledge  shall  be  able  to  lay  down  the 
conditions  which  all  experience  shall  fulfil.  Logic,  for 
example,  can  hold  of  all  experiences  whatsoever,  only  pro- 
vided it  be  construed  as  determining  what  can  be  experi- 
enced. The  categories  thus  appear  as  "the  necessary 
conditions  of  a  synthetical  unity  of  the  manifold  of  intui- 
tion in  a  possible  experience." 

But  quite  apart  from  these  considerations,  the  quasi- 
mental  status  of  Kant's  categories  could  be  accounted  for 
by  his  adoption  of  the  epistemological  standpoint.  He 
undertook  "to  determine  the  possibility,  the  principles,- 
and  the  extent  of  all  cognitions  a  priori."  Then,  when,  in 
fulfilment  of  this  task,  he  discovered  the  categories,  he 
named  them  after  their  role  in  cognition.  "I  call  all  knowl- 
edge transcendental,"  he  says,  "which  is  occupied  not  so 
much  with  objects,  as  with  our  manner  of  knowing  objects, 
so  far  as  this  is  meant  to  be  possible  a  priori."  The  "  tran- 
scendental deduction"  of  the  categories  introduces  them  as 
the  indispensable  condition  of  a  priori  knowledge.  They 
are  the  forms  of  a  transcendental  synthesis  or  "unity  of 
apperception,"  which  is  the  supreme  intellectual  function.1 
Introduced  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  knowledge,  the 
whole  Kantian  logic  thus  obtains  at  the  outset  a  cognitive 
or  mental  status  which  it  never  loses,  even  among  its  most 
rigorously  "logical"  exponents.2 

Kant  is  to  be  credited  with  proving  that  if  any  knowl- 
edge is  to  be  possible,  then  physical,  mathematical,  and 
logical  knowledge  must  be  possible.3  The  knowledge  of 
the  momentary  presence  of  a  state,  to  which  Hume  had 
sought  to  reduce  all  knowledge,  is  not  self-sufficient.  It 

1  Kant:  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  Max  Miiller's  trans.,  second  edition, 
pp.  105-106,  129,  2  (note),  9  (note),  100. 

1  See  below,  p.  147. 

1  Cf.  G.  E.  Moore:  "The  Nature  of  Judgment,"  Mind,  N.  S.,  Vol.  VIII, 
1899,  PP- 


142        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

presupposes  other  knowledge;  and  all  knowledge  in  the 
end  presupposes  logic.  But  Kant  did  more  than  to  prove 
the  validity  and  priority  of  logic.  He  identified  logic  with 
the  cognitive  consciousness;  with  the  result  that  his  proof 
of  the  priority  of  logic  confirmed  the  Berkeleyan  assertion 
of  the  priority  of  consciousness. 

§  4.  It  will  be  worth  our  while  briefly  to  consider  Kant's 
own  version  of  his  relations  to  idealism.  He  described  his 
Kant's Reia-  own  position  as  "empirical  realism"  and 
tions  to  ideal-  "transcendental  idealism,"  as  opposed  to 
"empirical  idealism"  and  "transcendental  real- 
ism." "Empirical  idealism,"  which  reduces  experience 
to  the  psychological  manifold,  Kant  rejects;  because  the 
series  of  internal  states  is  itself  definable  only  in  relation  to 
the  more  fundamental  order  of  physical  nature.  Its  time 
is  measured  by  physical  events,  and  its  subjective  sequence 
and  concomitance  is  distinguishable  only  by  contrast  with 
the  standard  arrangements  of  physical  law.  In  other 
words,  "internal  experience  itself  is  possible,  mediately 
only,  and  through  external  experience."  This  is  "empiri- 
cal realism."  It  leaves  us,  however,  with  a  new  order  of 
experience,  the  so-called  external  experience.  This  is  none 
the  less  "experience"  for  being  prior  to  the  psychological 
manifold.  For  "transcendental  idealism,"  which  is  the 
sequel  to  this  empirical  realism,  "matter  is  only  a  class  of 
representations  (intuition),  which  are  called  external,  not 
as  if  they  referred  to  objects  external  by  themselves  (tran- 
scendental realism),  but  because  they  refer  perceptions  to 
space  in  which  everything  is  outside  everything  else,  while 
space  itself  is  inside  us." 

Thus  Kant's  empirical  realism  does  not  in  the  least 
conflict  with  his  assertion  that  "all  phenomena  are  repre- 
sentations only,  not  things  by  themselves."  It  is  merely 
a  subordinate  phase  of  a  "transcendental  idealism,"  in 
which  the  psychological  and  physical  orders  alike  are 
grounded  on  the  laws  or  necessary  conditions  of  a  conscious- 
ness in  general.  Both  alike  are  phenomenal  in  respect  of 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  143 

this  universal  consciousness,  precisely  as  in  empirical  or 
subjective  idealism,  the  physical  order  is  phenomenal  in 
respect  of  the  psychological  consciousness.1 

Kant,  although  he  was  the  founder  of  a  new  idealism, 
was  not  himself  an  idealist,  in  the  metaphysical  sense.  He 
denned  the  categories  as  conditions  imposed  on  things  by 
the  knowing  of  them;  but  he  asserted  that  reality  was  under 
no  necessity  of  conforming  to  these  conditions,  except  in 
so  far  as  known.  That  a  thing  must  be  known  in  order  to 
be,  he  expressly  denied.  But  the  promptness  and  apparent 
ease  with  which  Kant's  view  was  transformed  into  a  meta- 
physical idealism,  is  proof  of  the  instability  of  the  situation 
as  he  left  it.  Having  established  the  essentially  formative 
and  constitutive  character  of  knowledge,  nothing  can  be 
independent  of  knowledge  except  that  which  lies  beyond 
even  the  possibility  of  knowledge.  The  forms  of  the  cog- 
nitive consciousness  underlie  all  that  is  or  can  be  experi- 
enced. So  that  Kant's  'thing-in-itself/  like  the  material 
substratum  which  Berkeley  had  so  effectually  disposed 
of,  is  no  more  than  a  symbol  of  nescience. 

The  '  thing-in-itself '  once  eliminated,  the  cognitive  con- 
sciousness enters  into  undisputed  possession  of  the  field. 
And  in  order  to  be  equal  to  this  metaphysical  r61e, 
cognitive  consciousness  must  be  more  liberally  endowed 
than  it  had  been  by  Kant.  It  is  not  enough  that  it  should 
be  endowed  with  the  categories  of  physical  science,  for 
these  do  not  form  a  self-sufficient  world.  The  new  idealism 
gives  "constitutive"  validity  to  that  "ideal  of  the  Uncon- 
ditioned," to  which  Kant  had  attributed  only  a  "regula- 
tive" validity.  Thus  enriched,  the  cognitive  consciousness 
assumes  the  authorship  and  proprietorship  of  reality. 

The  new  idealism  thus  restates  the  cardinal  principle 
in  a  new  form.  Knowing  is  declared  to  be  the  ground  of 

1  Kant:  op.  tit.,  pp.  300-301,  780.  Had  I  desired  to  exploit  the  subjec- 
tivistic  strain  in  Kant,  I  could  have  dwelt  upon  his  theory  of  the  subjectivity 
of  space  and  time.  I  have  preferred  to  emphasize  the  element  of  subjec- 
tivity in  those  features  of  his  philosophy,  'synthetic  unity'  and  the  'cate- 
gories,' which  have  been  most  emphasized  by  his  followers. 


144        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

being;  but  knowing  receives  a  new  definition.  It  is  no 
longer  the  receptivity  of  an  individual  perceiver,  but  the 
systematizing  activity  of  a  universal  thinking.  The  new 
idealism  lays  claim  to  the  title  'objective'  for  having 
rescued  the  object  from  the  flux  of  the  human  individual's 
mental  states,  and  given  it  permanence,  identity,  and 
orderly  relations.  But  the  object  is  thus  rescued  from 
the  psychological  subject,  only  to  be  appropriated  by  its 
deliverer,  the  transcendental  subject.  So  that  it  is  still 
dependent  on  subjectivity  in  some  guise,  and  the  most 
essential  feature  of  the  situation  as  Berkeley  left  it  remains 
unaltered. 

§  5.  The  history  of  Kantian  idealism  is  determined  by  a 
conflict  of  the  several  motives  represented  by  its  founders.1 
Diverse  Ten-  *n  Kant  himself,  idealism  assumed  a  'critical' 
dencies.  'Criti-  form,  opposed  to  the  metaphysical  form  into 
car  idealism  wnjcn  jt  was  promptly  converted  by  Fichte 
and  Hegel.  Fichte,  again,  developed  an  ethical  or 
voluntaristic  idealism,  to  which  was  opposed  the  logical 
or  intellectualistic  idealism  of  Hegel.  All  subsequent 
idealists  have  been  divided  by  these  issues.  Neo- 
Kantians  have  advocated  'criticism'  against  metaphysics; 
while  Neo-Fichteans  and  Neo-Hegelians  have  disputed  over 
the  relative  priority  of  will  and  intellect.  No  sharp  classi- 
fication is  possible,  since  such  differences  permit  of  an 
indefinite  variety  of  compromises  and  combinations.  But 
it  will  be  worth  our  while  briefly  to  examine  these  two 
leading  issues. 

'Critical'  idealism  aims  at  a  strictly  logical  interpretation 
of  Kant.  It  proposes,  like  Kant,  to  investigate  the  neces- 
sary conditions  of  knowledge;  and  concludes,  as  Kant  con- 
cluded, that  the  categories  which  exact  science  employs  are 
only  varieties,  applicable  to  specific  empirical  data,  of  cer- 
tain fundamental  forms  of  synthesis  resident  in  the  nature 

1  An  admirable  account  of  the  varieties  of  contemporary  idealism  in 
Germany  will  be  found  in  Ludwig  Stein:  Philosophische  Stromungen  der 
Gegenwart,  especially  Ch.  I,  IV,  IX. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  145 

of  thought  itself.  So  that  exact  science  is  not  a  mere 
description  of  empirical  data  a  posteriori,  but  a  determina- 
tion of  them  in  accordance  with  certain  a  priori  principles. 

Critical  idealists  are  divided  in  their  interests  in  a  manner 
corresponding  to  that  difference  between  intellectualism  and 
voluntarism  which  we  shall  consider  below.  Members  of  the 
so-called  "Marburg  School"  have  emphasized  the  logical 
presuppositions  of  mathematics  and  physics.1  Natorp, 
for  example,  asserts  that  the  nature  of  mathematical  and 
physical  truth  can  be  understood  only  by  showing  that 
its  special  principles,  such  as  'number,'  'infinity,'  'space,' 
'energy/  etc.,  are  related  to  purely  logical  principles, 
such  as  'quantity,'  'quality,'  'relation,'  and  'modality' 
("die  logischen  Grundf unktionen ") ,  which  in  turn  develop 
from  the  principle  of  synthetic  unity,  which  is  the  original 
act  of  knowledge  ("  Grundakt  der  Erkenntnis").  Or,  the 
principles  by  which  the  several  sciences  think  their  special 
objects  may  be  traced  back  to  the  general  principles  by 
which  anything  assumes  the  form  of  object  of  thought 
(Gegenstand)  .2  The  form  of  the  exact  sciences  is  thus  linked 
with  the  form  of  thought  in  general,  which  is  incontrovert- 
ible, since  any  attempt  to  dispute  it  must  presuppose  it. 

A  second  school  of  critical  idealists  emphasizes  the 
foundations  of  the  moral  sciences.3  The  critical  philosophy 

1  The  founder  of  this  school  is  H.  Cohen;  cf.  his  Logik  der  reinen  Er- 
kenntniss  (1902).  The  reader  will  find  the  doctrines  of  this  school  presented 
somewhat  more  clearly  in  Paul  Natorp's  Die  logischen  Grundlagen  der 
exakten  Wissenschaften,  and  in  Ernst  Cassirer's  Substanzbegriff  und  Funk- 
tionsbegriff.  The  writers  of  this  school  are  by  no  means  exclusively  occupied 
with  mathematical  and  physical  science;  cf.  Cohen:  Die  Ethik  des  reinen 
Willens. 

1  Natorp:  op.  cit.,  pp.  10-11,  44-52. 

1  The  Freiburg  School  (or  "die  sudwestdeutsche  Schule")  is  represented 
by  Wilhelm  Windelband's  PraLudien;  Heinrich  Rickert's  Der  Gegenstand 
der  Erkenntnis;  and  H.  Munsterberg's  Philosophic  der  Werte,  and  Eternal 
Values.  The  writers  of  this  school  deal  also  with  mathematical  and 
physical  science  (cf.  Rickert's  Grenzen  der  naturwissenschaftlkhen  Be- 
gri/sbildung.  They  tend  also  to  be  more  metaphysical  than  the  Marburg 
School,  and  to  merge  into  voluntaristic  or  ethical  idealism.  Cf.  below,  pp. 
150-152. 

ii 


146        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

of  value  is  to  rescue  ethics,  aesthetics,  history,  and  religion 
from  a  merely  descriptive  empiricism,  and  establish  them 
upon  a  logic  of  the  normative  or  ideal.  There  is,  it  is  to 
be  observed,  a  virtual  conflict  between  this  and  the 
Marburg  School,  inasmuch  as  this  regards  logic  itself  as  a 
science  of  value,  and  truth  as  an  ideal;  whereas  the  other 
regards  value  as  in  the  end  a  form  of  intellectual  synthe- 
sis. The  question  of  the  relative  priority  of  the  'is'  and 
the  'ought'  (the  "Sein"  and  the  "Sollen")  thus  divides 
critical  as  well  as  metaphysical  idealists  into  the  opposing 
factions  of  intellectualism  and  voluntarism.1 

The  most  interesting  aspect  of  critical  idealism  is  the 
interplay  of  its  two  motives,  its  criticism  and  its  idealism. 
Its  critical  motive  is  most  consistently  expressed  in  its 
polemic  against  'psychologism,'  the  Humian  view  which 
reduces  experience  to  the  particular  mental  states  of  the 
individual.  'Criticism'  was  born  in  Kant's  proof  that 
psychology  presupposes  physics  and  that  both  presuppose 
logic.  Since  Kant's  time,  every  revival  of  Hume  has  been 
followed  by  a  revival  of  this  counter-thesis.  The  natural- 
istic movement  in  Germany  in  the  latter  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  stimulated  the  counter-movement  "back 
to  Kant."2  And  similarly  the  present  revival  of  'psy- 
chologism '  among  pragmatists  and  positivists  has  provided 
a  new  occasion  for  protest.  Again  we  are  reminded  that 
logic  cannot  be  dissolved  into  the  stream  of  human  life 
without  self-contradiction,  for  every  definition  of  life  pre- 
supposes logic.  When  in  this  mood  'criticism'  seems  far 
removed  from  metaphysical  idealism.  It  is  simply  the 
assertion  of  the  absolute  priority  of  logic,  with  no  more 
regard  for  mind  than  for  matter.  "Without  logical  prin- 
ciples, which  lay  hold  of  the  contents  of  every  impression," 
says  Cassirer,  "there  is  for  it  (critical  idealism)  no  more 

1  Cf.  Natorp:  op.  cit.,  p.  51;  Cohen:  Etkik  des  reinen  Willens,  p.  79; 
and  Rickert:  op.  cit.,  pp.  165-167. 

z  Cf.  F.  A.  Lange,  O.  Liebmann,  and  E.  Zeller.  Contemporary  neo- Kan- 
tianism is  linked  with  this  earlier  movement  through  Cohen. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  147 

an  I-consciousness  than  there  is  an  object-consciousness. 
.  .  .  The  thought  of  the  I  is  in  no  way  more  original  and 
logically  simple  than  the  thought  of  the  object."  l 

And  yet  the  fact  remains  that  there  is  a  marked  difference 
between  critical  idealists  and  certain  other  contemporary 
writers  who  also  maintain  the  priority  of  logic,  but  who 
have  no  Kantian  affiliations.2  The  difference  lies  in  the 
fact  that  while  Kantians  regard  logic  as  the  science  of 
thought  or  knowledge  ("Denken"  or  "Erkenntnis"),  these 
writers  regard  it  as  a  science  of  '  relations/  '  classes/ 
'manifolds/  'propositions/  'prepositional  functions/  or 
other  special  entities,  no  more  related  to  thought  than  are 
the  numbers  of  the  mathematician  or  the  elements  of  the 
chemist.  The  peculiarity  of  these  entities  lies  in  their 
being  so  highly  abstract  as  to  be  contained  or  implied  in  all 
other  entities.  They  are  necessary  for  thought  only  in 
that  they  are  so  ubiquitous  that  thought  can  deal  with 
nothing  without  dealing  with  them. 

Now  whether  this  practice  among  neo-Kantians  of  call- 
ing logical  principles  the  'acts'  of  synthetic  unity,  or  the 
'functions'  of  thought,  or  the  'presuppositions  of  knowl- 
edge/ or  the  'conditions  of  objectivity/  is  no  more  than  an 
accident  of  emphasis  and  hereditary  verbal  usage,  I  shall 
not  seek  to  determine.3  But  of  several  conclusions  we 
may  be  reasonably  certain.  In  the  first  place,  if  the  prin- 
ciples of  logic  are  essentially  inherent  in  thought  or  knowl- 
edge, and  we  are  to  accept  the  priority  of  logic  over  all 
other  sciences,  then  an  idealistic  metaphysics  is  the  only 
possible  conclusion,  if  there  is  to  be  any  metaphysics  at 
all.  The  mind  that  owns  the  logical  structure  of  reality 
must  own  reality  outright.  That  the  thought  or  knowl- 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  392. 

*  I  refer  to  the  "lay"  logicians,  beginning  with  Schroeder  and  Boole 
and  represented  most  prominently  today  by  Peano,  Couturat,  and  Bertrand 
Russell.  The  reader  will  find  Russell's  Principles  of  Mathcmatks  and 
Principia  Mathematica  the  best  source  for  this  movement. 

1  The  best  discussion  of  the  matter  from  the  idealistic  side  is  to  be  found 
in  Cassirer,  op.  cit.,  Chap.  VII. 


148        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

edge  in  question  is  not  the  mental  process  of  the  finite 
individual  does  not  affect  this  general  conclusion  in  the 
least.  It  simply  introduces  a  new  conception  of  mind.  The 
central  idealistic  thesis,  that  reality  is  dependent  on  some 
mind,  is  simply  reaffirmed  in  a  new  sense.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  principles  of  logic  are  not  in  any  sense  mental, 
then  it  is  confusing  and  misleading  to  allude  to  them  as  the 
principles  of  thought  or  knowledge.  And  in  either  case, 
critical  idealism  is  in  unstable  equilibrium.  In  so  far  as 
its  logical  motive  is  emphasized,  it  tends  to  become  a 
special  science  like  mathematics.  In  so  far  as  its  idealistic 
motive  is  emphasized,  it  tends,  as  it  did  in  the  systems 
of  Kant's  immediate  successors,  Fichte,  Hegel,  and  the 
Romanticists,  to  assume  the  form  of  a  metaphysics  and 
philosophy  of  religion. 

The  English  school  of  idealists,  beginning  with  Coleridge, 
and  comprising  T.  H.  Green,  Edward  Caird,  F.  H. 
Bradley  and  Josiah  Royce  among  its  more  recent  exponents, 
has  from  the  outset  offered  a  religious  philosophy  based  on 
the  supremacy  of  consciousness.  And  the  latter-day  Ger- 
man movement  flows  steadily  from  neo-Kantianism  to  a 
neo-Fichteanism,  neo-Hegelianism,  or  neo-Romanticism,  in 
which  the  critique  of  '  psychologism '  is  only  a  subordinate 
motive  in  the  construction  of  a  spiritualistic  Weltan- 
schauung. 

§  6.  Objective  Idealism  in  its  metaphysical  form  has 
fluctuated  between  the  two  poles  of  intellectualism  and 
Metaphysical  voluntarism.  Its  central  thesis,  as  we  have 
idealism.  seen,  is  the  dependence  of  being  on  a  knowing 
intellectualism  mind  ^  transcends  and  envelops  both  the 

physical  and  the  psychical  orders.  But  this  subject  may  be 
held  to  consist  either  in  a  process  of  thought  governed  by 
logical  motives;  or  in  a  primary  activity,  expressing  itself 
in  thought,  but  governed  primarily  by  ethical  motives. 
For  Hegel,  the  classic  representative  of  intellectualistic  ideal- 
ism, mind,  or  spirit  ("Geist")  is  a  primordial  dialectic  or 
train  of  ideas;  an  "Absolute  Idea,"  "externalizing"  itself 


OBJECTIVE    IDEALISM  149 

in  nature  and  reaching  self-consciousness  through  the 
historical  development  of  culture.1  There  have  been  two 
internal  forces  affecting  the  development  of  this  version 
of  idealism. 

In  the  first  place,  the  categories  themselves,  the  several 
ideas  with  their  own  relations  of  logical  necessity,  tend  to 
replace  and  render  unnecessary  the  unifying  conception 
of  mind.  The  Absolute  Idea  tends  to  assume  the  form  of  a 
self-sufficient  system,  like  logic  or  mathematics.  As  a 
contemporary  idealist  complains,  "the  'Absolute  Idea'  is, 
in  its  self -evolution,  of  all  things  most  inane,  because  it 
figures  as  thought  — '  the  impersonal  life  of  thought/  as 
it  has  been  termed  —  without  a  live  Thinker." 2  Thus  in- 
tellectualistic  idealism  tends  to  develop  into  a  bare  ration- 
alism or  necessitarianism,  that  is  really  closer  to  mechanism, 
than  to  spiritualism  in  the  ordinary  moral  and  religious 
sense.  So  that  in  the  so-called  "left  wing"  of  the  Hegelian 
school,  idealism  passed  very  easily  and  naturally  over 
into  its  opposite.3 

In  the  second  place,  Hegel's  account  of  the  process  of 
mind,  his  enumeration  and  arrangement  of  the  categories, 
was  soon  shown  to  be  inadequate.  Science  in  its  inde- 
pendent development  refused  to  comply.  The  special  cate- 
gories of  nature,  and  even  of  history,  had  to  be  accepted 
from  the  several  sciences  operating  in  these  fields.  As  a 
result  the  history  of  intellectualistic  idealism  has  been 
marked  by  the  steady  reduction  of  the  strictly  spiritual 
categories  —  the  a  priori  principles  of  pure  thought  —  to 
the  scantiest  and  most  formal  terms.  Indeed  it  is  not  far 
from  the  truth  to  say  that  it  now  recognizes  only  one  such 
category,  that  of  unity.  This  obtains  diverse  formulations, 
such  as  the  Caird's  "  self  -consistent  and  intelligible  whole"; 
Green's  "unalterable  order  of  relations";  Bradley's  "Indi- 

1  Cf.  Hegel's  Encyklopadie  (1816-1818),  §§236-244,  381-382;  trans, 
by  W.  Wallace,  in  his  Logic  of  Hegel,  and  Hegel's  Philosophy  of  Mind. 

1  James  Lindsay:   Studies  in  European  Philosophy,  pp.  223-224. 

1  This  movement  was  represented  by  A.  L.  Feuerbach,  David  Strauss, 
Karl  Marx,  and  others. 


150        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

vidual"  or  "complete  system";  and  Joachim's  "system- 
atic coherence,"  or  "completely  individual,  self -sustained, 
significant  whole."1  In  so  far  as  these  formulas  purport  to 
define  a  maximum  or  ideal  unity,  I  shall  discuss  them  in 
the  next  chapter.2  Suffice  it  here  to  point  out  that  the 
terms  are  so  abstract  and  colorless,  that  they  do  not  legit- 
imately affect  that  issue  between  spiritualism  and  material- 
ism, in  which  idealism  appears  as  one  of  the  principal 
champions. 

This  is  true  whichever  of  the  two  following  courses  is 
pursued.  It  is  possible,  on  the  one  hand,  to  adopt  the 
categories  of  science,  and  superimpose  the  philosophical 
category  of  unity.  The  world  is  then  simply  that  kind  of 
systematic  unity  which  the  several  sciences  are  progres- 
sively revealing,  and  idealism  is  no  more  than  a  formal 
endorsement  of  these  sciences.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  possible  to  pursue  the  agnostic  course,  and  assert  that 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  knowledge  there  are  categories 
which  transmute  the  paradoxes  of  this  world  into  a  "total 
unity  of  experience,"  which  "cannot,  as  such,  be  directly 
verified."3  But  such  an  absolute,  concerning  which 
nothing  more  is  known  than  that  it  is  somehow  one,  self- 
consistent,  and  all-inclusive,  cannot  properly  be  said  to  be 
spiritual;  indeed,  in  so  far  as  it  signifies  specific  mental 
and  moral  predicates,  spirituality  must  be  regarded  as  one 
of  those  "partial  aspects"  which  the  absolute  transcends. 

§  7.  The  doubtful  spirituality  of  a  world  defined 
exclusively  to  suit  an  intellectual  demand  constitutes  a 
Voiuntarfstic  powerful  motive  impelling  idealism  to  shift 
or  Ethical  its  basis  from  intellectualism  to  voluntarism. 
Intellect,  so  the  voluntarist  asserts,  is  only  a 
special  activity  of  consciousness.  The  general  or  funda- 
mental activity  of  consciousness  is  not  intellectual  but 

1  E.  Caird:  "Idealism  and  the  Theory  of  Knowledge,"  reprinted  from 
Proceedings  of  the  British  Academy  of  Science,  Vol.  I,  p.  8;  T.  H.  Green: 
Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  pp.  29,  30;  F.  H.  Bradley:  Appearance  and  Reality, 
p.  542;  H.  H.  Joachim:  The  Nature  of  Truth,  pp.  76,  113. 

1  Cf.  especially,  pp.  183-188.         »  Bradley:   op.  cit.,  p.  530. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  151 

moral.  Consciousness  owns  and  employs  the  categories 
in  the  service  of  its  ulterior  practical  purposes.  We  are 
thus  led  from  Hegelianism  to  Fichteanism.  With  Fichte, 
mind  was  the  pure  ego,  endowed  with  freedom  and 
activity,  and  "positing"  in  obedience  to  moral  necessities, 
a  "limited  ego"  in  opposition  to  a  "limited  non-ego"; 
in  other  words,  dividing  itself  into  the  counterpoise  of 
spirit  and  nature.1 

But  the  same  fate  which  befell  the  logical  metaphysics  of 
Hegel,  befell  also  the  ethical  metaphysics  of  Fichte.  He  did 
not  succeed  in  moralizing  nature  any  more  than  Hegel 
succeeded  in  rationalizing  it.  Mechanical  science  has 
pursued  its  own  independent  course,  steadily  and  irresist- 
ibly; and  voluntarism  like  intellectualism  has  been  forced 
to  ratify  its  conquests.  The  result  is  that  voluntarism  is 
forced  either  to  limit  the  scope  of  its  categories  to  the  field 
of  moral  science  proper,  or  to  divest  these  categories  of 
their  narrower  and  stricter  meaning  in  order  to  maintain 
their  limitless  scope. 

The  former  alternative  is  adopted  in  so  far  as  volun- 
taristic  idealism  is  simply  a  protest  against  attempts  to 
mechanize  the  sciences  of  value.  When  voluntaristic 
idealism  goes  beyond  this  insistence  on  the  autonomy  of 
moral  science  within  its  own  limited  field,  and  asserts  its 
ultimate  priority,  it  becomes  necessary  to  construe  logic 
also  as  a  normative  science.  Judgment  becomes  an  act 
of  will,  and  truth  its  norm.  Reality,  being  reduced  to 
knowledge  by  the  usual  idealistic  arguments,  is  thus  made 
an  expression  of  will.2  But  when  the  will  is  thus  identified 
with  the  will  to  know,  it  amounts  to  no  more  than  the 
reaffirmation  of  things  as  they  are.  The  cognitive  or 
logical  will  is  the  will  of  the  passionless  sage  who  has 

1  Fichte:  Grundlage  der  gesammten  Wissenschaftslehre  (Science  of 
Knowledge)  (1794),  trans,  by  A.  E.  Kroeger,  pp.  79  sq.;  and  Das  System  der 
Sittenlehre  (Science  of  Ethics)  (1798),  trans,  by  Kroeger,  pp.  67  sq. 

1  Cf.  below,  pp.  161-162.  For  the  voluntarism  arising  from  non-ideal- 
istic motives,  such  as  '  neo-vitalism/  cf.  Bergson,  as  treated  below, 
pp.  261-264. 


152        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

renounced  every  special  preference,  and  schooled  himself 
to  an  acquiescence  in  whatever  is  objective  and  necessary. 
As  knower,  I  will  that  there  shall  be  a  world;  and  having 
once  so  willed,  I  must  take  it  as  I  find  it  and  yield  to  its 
demands.1  I  have  not  interpreted  the  world  to  harmonize 
it  with  will,  but  have  emasculated  will  into  an  assent  to 
the  world  as  it  is. 

The  fate  that  befalls  a  strict  voluntarism  is  thus  similar 
to  that  which  befalls  a  strict  intellectualism.  Specific 
categories  drawn  from  thought  or  from  the  moral  life,  break 
down  when  used  for  the  purpose  of  interpreting  nature; 
and  then  when  the  categories  are  corrected  to  suit  nature, 
they  lose  their  specifically  spiritual  character.  There  is 
no  saving  grace  in  such  a  philosophy;  and  it  does  not  con- 
stitute a  possible  resting-place  for  the  idealistic  mind.2 

§  8.  The  romantic  alternative  alone  remains,  as  appar- 
ently the  inevitable  destiny  of  idealism.  It  is  generally 
Neo-Roman-  recognized  that  contemporary  German  thought 
tidsm  has  been  repeating  the  phases  through  which 

the  Kantian  movement  originally  passed.3  Whether 
neo-Kantianism,  neo-Fichteanism,  neo-Hegelianism,  and 
neo-Romanticism  have  observed  the  chronological  order 
of  their  prototypes  is  doubtful.  But  the  interplay  of 
motives  is  strikingly  similar  to  that  of  German  thought 
at  the  opening  of  the  last  century,  and  in  nothing  more 
than  in  the  emergence  of  romanticism. 

Romanticism  may  take  the  agnostic  form,  and  reduce  the 

1  Cf:  Miinsterberg.    See  below,  pp.  178-179. 

*  Wherever  the  metaphysical  motive  is  strong,  ethical  idealism  tends 
to  approach  romanticism.  Thus  Miinsterberg  (op.  cit.)  stands  nearer  to 
romanticism  than  Windelband  and  Rickert,  as  he  in  turn  falls  short  of  the 
advanced  position  of  Th.  Lipps  ("Naturphilosophie,"  in  Philosophic  im 
Beginn  des  Zwanzigsten  J ahrhunderts ,  Festschrift  for  Kuno  Fischer,  second 
edition).  The  common  metaphysical  motive  in  voluntarism  and  romanti- 
cism is  significantly  expressed  by  the  new  idealistic  organ,  Logos;  cf.  Vol.  I, 
1910,  p.  i. 

3  The  so-called  "  review-course  "  (Repetitionskursus).  Cf.  Oscar  Ewald : 
"The  Present  State  of  Philosophy  in  Germany,"  Phil.  Review,  Vol.  XVI, 
1907,  pp.  238  sq. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  153 

various  concrete  manifestations  of  spirit  to  some  ineffable 
life  which  engulfs  and  negates  them.  This  was  the  method 
of  Schopenhauer,  and  as  revived  in  Hartmann's  theory  of 
"the  Unconscious,"  and  in  the  earlier  phases  of  Nietzsche's 
thought,  it  plays  no  inconsiderable  part  in  the  present 
movement.  But  there  is  another  form  of  romanticism 
that  is  more  hospitable  as  well  as  more  positive  in  tone.  If 
it  is  impossible  to  construe  the  world  in  terms  of  thought, 
or  in  terms  of  moral  life,  there  yet  remains  a  further  concep- 
tion, complete  enough  to  embrace  these  and  every  other 
possible  value,  —  the  conception  of  a  universal  spiritual 
life  ("geistiges  Leben"),  that  shall  be  infinitely  various 
and  infinitely  rich.  Thus  there  arises  the  syncretistic  and 
developmental  romanticism,  which  is  the  popular  movement 
of  the  day  in  German  thought. 

"I  have  shown,"  writes  Ewald,  "that  it  is  more  and  more 
the  tendency  of  the  most  diverse  thinkers  to  regard  the 
world  as  a  fulness,  exhibiting  contradictions  and  antinomies 
only  in  the  human  spirit.  In  this  way  one-sided  logicism 
is  overthrown.  Logic,  morality,  art,  and  religion  enjoy 
in  their  own  realms  complete  sovereignty  and  cannot  be 
reduced  by  psychological  or  empiristic  attempts  to  any- 
thing merely  relative  or  temporal.  This  sphere,  however, 
is  not  the  whole,  but  only  a  part  of  inexhaustible  reality." 
Or,  as  it  is  expressed  by  Dilthey,  for  whom  philosophy  is 
a  study  of  the  great  interpretations  of  life  ("  Weltanschau- 
ungslehre")  in  all  their  historical  variety:  "It  is  not  the 
relativity  of  every  Weltanschauung,  that  is  the  final  word 
of  the  spirit  which  has  passed  through  them  all,  but 
rather  the  sovereignty  of  the  spirit,  as  opposed  to  each 
and  every  one  of  them;  and  at  the  same  time  the  positive 
consciousness  that,  in  the  different  attitudes  of  the  spirit, 
the  One  Reality  of  the  world  is  given  us,  the  persistent 
types  of  Weltanschauung  being  the  expression  of  the  many- 
sidedness  of  the  world."  The  same  philosophy  finds  an 
eloquent  and  influential  exponent  in  Rudolph  Eucken, 
who  proclaims  the  self-sufficiency  of  the  spiritual  life 


154        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

("Selbststandigkeit  des  Geisteslebens ")  —  of  that  "cosmic 
life  that  forms  the  essence  of  things,"  and  is  apprehended 
in  a  spiritual  immediacy.1 

Romanticism  does  not  lend  itself  to  vigorous  criticism: 
it  is  not  so  much  a  philosophy  as  a  faith.  In  romanticism, 
"the  cause  of  the  Spiritual  Life  is  loyally  championed  by 
the  soul  against  the  pretensions  of  an  alien  or  at  least  dissat- 
isfying worldliness."  Little  attempt  is  made  to  free  the 
conception  of  the  '  geistiges  Leben '  from  its  indeterminate- 
ness  and  promiscuity;  or  to  defend  its  priority  by  orderly 
argument.  Proof  is  as  little  congenial  as  analysis  to  such 
a  mood  of  riotous  spirituality.  The  spiritual  life  is  an  act 
to  be  performed,  a  privilege  to  be  "freely  appropriated," 
rather  than  an  idea  to  be  defined  and  established.  Its 
real  motive  force  "lies  in  the  impulse  towards  spiritual  self- 
preservation."  It  springs  from  "  the  desire  for  a  philosophy 
which  seeks  to  regard  reality  from  the  inside  and  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  whole,  and  which  .  .  .  strives  to  raise 
the  whole  of  human  life  to  a  higher  level."2 

In  other  words  it  becomes  in  the  end  a  question  of  the 
function  of  philosophy.  If  philosophy  be  an  attempt  to 
inspire  men  with  noble  and  elevating  sentiments,  the  roman- 
ticists are  perpetually  right.  But  if  philosophy  be  the 
attempt  to  think  clearly  and  cogently  about  the  world,  and 
lay  bare  its  actualities  and  necessities  —  for  better  or  for 
worse  —  then  romanticism  is  irrelevant.  It  is  not  a  false 
philosophy;  it  is  simply  not,  in  the  strict  theoretical  sense, 
a  philosophy  at  all.3 

§  9.  Before  concluding,  we  shall  do  well  to  inquire 
whether  this  great  movement,  with  all  the  brilliancy  and 
versatility  of  mind  which  it  has  displayed,  has  proved  its 

1  Ewald:  op.  cit.  (con.),  Phil.  Review,  Vol.  XVII,  1908,  p.  426;  W. 
Dilthey:  "Das  Wesen  der  Philosophic,"  in  Systematische  Philosophic 
(Hinneberg's  Kultur  der  Gegenwart),  p.  62;  R.  Eucken:  Life  of  the  Spirit, 
trans,  by  F.  L.  Pogson,  p.  327. 

*  Eucken:  op.  cit.,  pp.  332,  403;  and  The  Meaning  and  Value  of  Life, 
trans,  by  L.  J.  and  W.  R.  B.  Gibson,  pp.  98,  126. 

a  Cf.  above,  pp.  29-30,  40-41. 


OBJECTIVE    IDEALISM  155 

case.  Has  objective  or  transcendental  idealism,  the  ideal- 
ism of  Kant  and  of  those  whom  he  inspired,  established 
The  New  or  strengthened  the  general  contention  of 


Principle  In  the  first  place,  it  is  clear  that  the  cardinal 

principle  of  idealism  remains  what  it  was  with  Berkeley. 
It  is  asserted  that  consciousness  in  some  form,  especially 
consciousness  in  its  cognitive  form,  is  the  one  necessary  and 
universal  condition  of  being.  It  is  idle  and  misleading  for 
contemporary  idealists  to  slur  the  fundamental  place  of  the 
conscious  subject  in  their  scheme  of  reality;  to  resort,  for 
example,  to  a  seemingly  neutral  or  colorless  conception  like 
'experience.'  This  conception  is  used  by  certain  non- 
idealistic  writers  *  to  mean  the  bare  aggregate  of  entities, 
not  as  yet  brought  under  the  form  of  either  mind  or  body. 
But  for  idealists  experience  means  the  contents  of  con- 
sciousness, construed  as  such.  Thus  when  Mr.  Joachim 
refers  to  that  "Ideal  experience"  in  terms  of  which  he 
defines  truth,  he  means  not  the  systematic  totality  of  things 
merely,  but  such  a  totality  witnessed  and  comprehended.  This 
explains  why  he  is  not  satisfied  with  the  phrase  "significant 
whole."  For  "if  'experience'  tends  to  suggest  the  experi- 
encing apart  from  the  experience,  'significant  whole'  tends 
to  suggest  the  experienced  apart  from  the  experiencing." 
"  We  want  a  term,"  he  says,  "  to  express  the  concrete  unity 
of  both,  and  I  cannot  find  one."  Now  I  think  that  Mr. 
Joachim  is  mistaken  in  thinking  that  the  term  experience 
is  defective  in  the  respect  to  which  he  refers.  The  danger 
is  rather  that,  as  used  by  idealists,  it  shall  obscure  the 
fact  that  they  mean  content  of  consciousness,  and  not 
merely  things.  Indeed  I  strongly  suspect  that  it  owes  its 
vogue  to  its  ambiguity;  otherwise  I  cannot  account  for  the 
abandonment  of  such  downright  terms  as  'state,'  'percept,' 
'idea.'  Surely  these  terms  answer  perfectly  to  the  demand 
that  things  shall  be  construed  as  present  to  consciousness, 
and  consciousness  as  made  up  of  content.  In  any  case,  it 

1  By  James,  for  example;  cf.  below,  pp.  364-365. 


156        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

is  clear  that  the  "concrete  unity"  to  which  this  author 
refers  is  a  unity  of  consciousness.1 

An  alternative  phrasing  of  objective  idealism  is  to  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  Edward  Caird.  Thus  he  writes: 
"The  main  result  of  modern  philosophy  and  especially  of 
modern  idealism  has  been  to  put  a  concrete,  in  place  of  an 
abstract  unity,  or,  in  other  words,  to  vindicate  the  essential 
correlation  of  the  self  and  the  not-self."2  Now  this  does 
not  mean  merely  that  the  self  and  the  not-self  are  in  some 
sense  necessarily  related;  and  does  not  follow  from  any 
general  proof  of  the  systematic  unity  of  the  world.  It 
means  that  it  is  essential  to  everything  to  stand  in  the 
specific  relation,  for-a-self;  that  the  simplest  possible  entity 
is  a  self  with  its  content,  or  an  object  engaged  by  a  conscious 
mind.  The  unity  to  which  the  idealist  refers  is  not  a  unity 
between  consciousness  and  something  else,  but  a  unity  of 
consciousness. 

§  10.  Supposing  it  to  be  granted,  then,  that  objective 
or  transcendental  idealism,  like  Berkeleyan  idealism,  is 
The  New  Proof  ^ounc^e^  on  ^e  assertion  of  the  primacy  of 
of  idealism™0  consciousness ;  we  may  now  ask  whether  this 
Unit Synthetic  version  of  idealism  has  advanced  new  arguments 
in  support  of  that  assertion.  One  is  compelled 
to  express  astonishment  at  the  common  failure  of  idealists 
to  separate  this  question,  and  deal  with  it  proportionately 
to  its  importance.  But  the  new  idealism  does  urge  at 
least  one  new  argument  —  the  argument  from  the  'syn- 
thetic '  function  of  consciousness.  It  is  contended  that  con- 
sciousness affords  the  only  genuine  unity,  and  that  since  the 
world  requires  unity  it  must  derive  it  from  consciousness. 

1  H.  Joachim:  op.  cit.,  pp.  83-84,  note.  The  same  comment  will  apply 
to  the  use  which  Rickert  and  others  make  of  the  conception  of '  immanence ' 
to  describe  the  most  universal  form  of  being.  'Immanence'  is  meaning- 
less except  in  relation  to  a  subject,  and  the  theory  of  universal  immanence 
does  not  really  differ  except  in  unclearness  from  a  more  explicit  theory  of 
universal  consciousness.  Cf.  Rickert:  Der  Gegemtand  der  Erkenntnis, 
pp.  24-25. 
J  Edward  Caird:  op.  cit.,  p.  6. 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  157 

Green,  for  example,  asserts  that  reality  must  be  regarded 
as  "an  unalterable  order  of  relations."  "But  a  plurality 
of  things  cannot  of  themselves  unite  in  one  relation,  nor 
can  a  single  thing  of  itself  bring  itself  into  a  multitude 
of  relations."  They  require  the  "combining  agency" 
—  intelligence.  "Either  then  we  must  deny  the  reality  of 
relations  altogether  and  treat  them  as  fictions  of  our  com- 
bining intelligence,  or  we  must  hold  that,  being  the  product 
of  our  combining  intelligence,  they  are  yet  'empirically 
real'  on  the  ground  that  our  intelligence  is  a  factor  in  the 
real  of  experience."1 

Similarly,  Mr.  McTaggart  asserts  that  the  only  intelli- 
gible kind  of  unity  is  that  in  which  "  the  unity  is  at  once 
the  whole  of  which  the  individuals  are  parts,  and  also 
completely  present  in  each  individual."  And  "this  rela- 
tion between  the  individuals  and  the  whole  ....  is  that 
particular  relation  of  which  the  only  example  known  to 
us  is  consciousness."2 

The  only  possible  justification  for  this  train  of  reasoning 
is  the  supposition  that  terms  must  somehow  penetrate  their 
relations  and  relations  their  terms,  so  that  some  peculiar 
agency  is  required  to  prevent  their  either  fusing  or  falling 
apart.  This  is  the  so-called  'internal  theory'  of  relations, 
which  is  not  only  contrary  to  the  usage  of  science  and  com- 
mon sense,  but  incapable  even  of  being  expressly  formu- 
lated. Mr.  Bradley  is  driven  in  despair  to  conclude  that 
"a  relation  always  is  self-contradictory,"  and  that  to  find 
a  solution  we  must "  pass  entirely  beyond  the  relational  point 
of  view."  He  obtains  no  illumination  of  the  question  from 
the  character  of  consciousness.  For  this  simply  repeats 
"the  old  illusory  play  of  relations  and  qualities,"  "at  a 
higher  level  than  before."  But  for  some  inscrutable  reason, 
Messrs.  Green  and  McTaggart  find  the  intellectual  operation 
of  relating,  or  the  consciousness  of  many  in  one,  more  intelli- 

1  T.  H.  Green:  op.  cit.,  pp.  29-32. 

1  J.  M.  E.  McTaggart:  Studies  in  Hegelian  Cosmology,  pp.  14,  19.  Cf. 
also  M.  W.  Calkins:  The  Persistent  Problems  of  Philosophy,  pp.  378-379- 


158        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

gible  than  bare  relation  itself.  I  can  explain  their  proced- 
ure only  by  attributing  it  to  a  willingness,  exhibited  by 
modern  thinkers  in  general,  and  by  idealists  in  particular, 
to  abandon  analysis  and  rigor  of  thought  when  conscious- 
ness is  in  question.1  If  there  be  any  peculiar  virtue  in 
consciousness  to  relieve  the  difficulty  of  'unity  in  plurality/ 
it  is  a  miraculous  virtue;  whose  secret,  if  it  has  been  discov- 
ered, has  certainly  never  been  successfully  communicated. 

§  ii.  But  the  majority  of  idealists  do  not  even  attempt, 
as  do  Green  and  McTaggart,  to  find  a  new  proof  of  idealism; 
The  Revival  of  t^iev  are  satisfied  to  rest  their  case  on  the  old 
the  Berkeieyan  Berkcleyan  grounds.  The  fallacy  of  '  argument 
Arguments  ^Tom  ^e  ego-centric  predicament '  is  precisely 
the  same,  whether  knowing  be  construed  empirically  with 
Berkeley,  or  rationalistically  with  the  followers  of  Kant. 
Thus  the  categories  cannot  be  known  without  being 
thought;  from  which  it  is  falsely  inferred  that  they  cannot 
be  without  being  thought. 

This  fallacy  is  perhaps  less  characteristic  of  the  new 
idealism  than  the  other  Berkeieyan  fallacy  of  '  definition  by 
initial  predication.'  Here  one  begins  by  discovering  that 
the  categories  are  conditions  of  knowledge.  But  having 
once  taken  their  place  upon  the  stage  in  this  r61e,  they 
are  straightway  identified  with  it.  They  are  defined  as 
what  one  needs  in  order  to  know.  They  become  the  instru- 
ments of  a  hypothetical  activity  governed  purely  by  the 
cognitive  motive.  This  activity  becomes  a  will  to  know, 
which  seeks  its  own  by  a  definite  procedure  and  imposes 
its  conditions  on  everything  with  which  it  deals.  The 
necessities  of  knowledge  are  construed  as  its  demands, 
and  the  world  of  science  as  its  conquest  and  domain. 

1  F.  H.  Bradley:  op.  cit.,  pp.  112,  445.  Professor  Royce,  like  Mr. 
Bradley,  admits  that  the  difficulty  of  relations  is  aggravated  rather  than 
relieved  in  the  case  of  consciousness,  but  believes  that  the  difficulty  may 
be  met  by  the  modern  mathematical  theory  of  infinity.  Cf.  The  World 
and  the  Individual,  First  Series,  Supplementary  Essay.  On  the  'internal' 
and  '  external '  theory  of  relations,  cf.  below,  pp.  244-246,  319-320;  and 
above,  pp.  101-102. 


OBJECTIVE    IDEALISM  159 

But  the  guise  in  which  things  first  appear  is  not  to  be 
assumed  to  be  their  native  dress.  It  may  be  in  any  degree 
accidental  and  external.  That  the  categories  may  be  con- 
ditions of  knowledge  only  accidentally,  is  apparent  when  one 
reflects  that  any  entity  whatsoever  may  be  cast  in  that  role. 
The  color  red  may  be  used  as  a  danger-signal;  a  spacial 
distance,  such  as  a  metre  or  a  foot,  may  be  used  as  a  unit  of 
measurement;  the  weight  of  water  may  be  used  as  a  stand- 
ard for  the  determination  of  atomic  weights.  But  one 
does  not  therefore  conclude  that  these  things  are  essentially 
conditions  of  knowledge. 

There  is  no  difference  between  these  cases  and  the  cases 
of  the  traditional  formal  categories,  save  the  wider  gener- 
ality of  the  use  to  which  the  latter  may  be  put.  And  the 
explanation  of  this  may  at  least  as  reasonably  be  found  in 
the  nature  of  things,  as  in  the  nature  of  knowledge.  If 
knowledge  must  conform  to  its  objects,  then  every  necessity 
in  things  is  a  necessity  for  true  thought  about  those  things. 
Thus  if  one  is  to  know  right-angle  triangles,  one  must  judge 
that  the  square  on  the  hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  squares 
on  the  other  two  sides.  And  as  spacial  implications  are 
necessary  for  geometrical  thought;  so,  if  there  are  any 
universal  implications  residing  in  the  nature  of  all  things, 
implications  belonging  to  the  province  of  logic,  then  they 
are  necessary  for  all  thought.  But  the  necessity  lies  ulti- 
mately in  the  nature  of  things,  and  is  binding  on  thought 
only  so  far  as  thought  is  bound  to  things.  Were  all  things 
blue,  blue  would  then  be  an  indispensable  condition  for  the 
knowing  of  anything;  but  it  would  not  on  that  account 
bear  any  closer  relation  to  the  cognitive  subject  than  it 
does  now.  All  things  are,  let  us  assume,  related.  It  follows 
that  it  is  impossible  to  know  anything  without  knowing  it 
in  relation.  Not,  however,  because  knowing  implies  relat- 
ing; but  because  being  implies  relation,  and  knowing  must 
seize  upon  the  nature  of  its  object. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  objective  idealism  has  deduced  the 
categories  from  the  object  and  not  from  the  subject.  To 


160        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

deduce  the  categories  from  the  subject  it  would  have  been 
necessary  to  define  the  subject  —  which  the  idealist  has 
consistently  omitted  to  do.  The  subject  has  been  a  by- 
stander, whose  familiar  presence  has  gradually  assumed 
the  appearance  of  indispensable  necessity.  It  is,  to  be 
sure,  the  contention  of  some  idealists  that  it  is  possible  to 
know  necessities  only  in  so  far  as  knowledge  itself  imposes 
them.  Knowledge,  Kant  said,  must  control  its  objects  if 
it  is  confidently  to  assert  anything  concerning  them.  But 
it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  necessities  of  thought  are 
derived  by  the  objective  idealist,  not  from  thought 
as  the  moral-psychical  process  of  the  individual  mind, 
but  from  thought  standardized,  from  thought  so  far  as 
true.  It  is  the  pragmatist,  and  not  the  idealist,  who 
attempts  to  deduce  the  categories  from  the  concrete,  exist- 
ent subject;  and  the  idealist  is  the  first  to  charge  him  with 
subjectivism  and  relativism.  The  idealist  deduces  the 
categories  from  the  subject  in  so  far  as  conformed  to  the 
objective  nature  of  things,  and  thus,  in  the  last  analysis,  from 
that  objective  nature  of  things.  The  actual  subject,  then, 
does  not  impose  necessities  on  nature,  but  yields  to  neces- 
sities which  are  dictated  to  it  by  something  beyond  itself. 
The  idealistic  version  of  the  categories  receives  illegiti- 
mate support  from  the  fixed  disposition  in  modern  times  to 
regard  sense  as  receptive,  and  thought  as  creative.  While  we 
'receive'  impressions,  we  are  supposed  to  'form'  ideas. 
But  this  is  sheer  prejudice  or  verbalism.  A  body  must  be 
perceived  in  order  to  be  known,  and  an  implication  must  be 
thought  in  order  to  be  known;  but  there  is  no  more  reason  or 
sense  in  asserting  the  knowing  to  be  necessary  to  the  being, 
in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  The  general  question  of 
the  dependence  or  independence  of  things  known  on  the 
knowing  of  them,  has  really  nothing  to  do  with  the  narrower 
question  of  the  priority  of  sense  or  thought.  The  more 
general  question  cannot  be  discussed  intelligently  without 
an  analysis  of  the  knowing  subject,  in  which  it  is  brought 
from  its  functional  place  in  the  background  and  placed  in 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  l6l 

the  foreground  of  study,  like  any  other  entity.  It  may  then 
be  possible  to  discover  its  particular  nature;  and  the  partic- 
ular nature  of  that  peculiar  relation  which  it  sustains  to 
those  other  things  which  are  its  objects;  and  finally  whether 
that  relation  is  or  is  not  essential  to  the  objects. 

The  procedure  of  voluntaristic  idealism  in  establishing 
the  priority  of  will,  purpose,  or  the  judging  activity  with 
its  ideals  and  norms,  affords  a  peculiarly  clear  illustration 
of  the  Berkeleyan  arguments.  Thus  Rickert  writes:  "We 
know  nothing  of  a  being  that  is,  except  it  be  judged  to  be, 
and  no  one  knows  anything  of  it,  ...  for  how  could  he 
know  without  having  judged,  and  how  could  he  judge  with- 
out thereby  recognizing  an  ought?"  Now  doubtless  being 
is  a  predicate  of  judgment;  and  doubtless  judgment  like 
all  activities  is  subject  to  a  determinate  obligation  of  its 
own.  When  I  set  out  to  know,  reality  is  my  destination, 
and  prescribes  the  course  of  my  action.  Or,  as  Professor 
Royce  expresses  it,  "the  Other  which  Thought  restlessly 
seeks"  is  "nothing  but  the  will  of  the  idea  itself  in  some 
determinate  expression."1  But  why  identify  things  with 
the  cognitive  adventure  at  all?  I  am  no  more  justified  in 
defining  that  which  is  my  norm  or  purpose,  my  goal  or  desti- 
nation, in  terms  of  this  relation,  than  I  am  justified  in  defining 
the  office  in  terms  of  the  office-seeking,  or  a  geographical 
locality  in  terms  of  travellers  who  journey  toward  it. 

The  reasoning  of  idealism  has  grown  in  popular  effective- 
ness as  European  thought  has  acquired  the  habit  of  viewing 
reality  as  the  idealist  views  it.  So  strong  is  this  habit  that 
many  idealistic  books  are  written  with  no  attempt  what- 
soever at  proof.  We  are  invited  to  view  the  world  as 
'experience,'  'task,'  'situation,'  'truth,'  'goal,'  or,  in  some 
others  terms,  as  object  of  consciousness;  and  it  is  thereupon 
assumed  without  further  ado  that  this  aspect  of  the  world, 
simply  because  it  is  there  and  may  be  selected,  is  defini- 
tive. But  unless  it  can  be  proved  that  the  relation  of 
things  to  life,  when  they  do  sustain  such  a  relation,  is  the 

1  Rickert:  op.  cit.,  pp.  156-157;  Royce:  op.  cit.,  pp.  588,  333. 


1 62        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

relation  which  bestows  on  them  both  their  nature  and 
their  being,  there  is  no  difference  between  such  idealism 
and  a  sheer  romantic  or  spiritualistic  bias. 

§  12.  Before  bringing  this  chapter  to  a  close  we  must 

inquire  whether  objective  idealism  has  accomplished  its 

,   restricted   domestic   task  of    saving    idealism 

Objective  Ideal-  .   .  .  .  &. 

ism  as  an  from  a  vicious  subjectivism.  There  is  but  one 
Escape  from  crucial  consideration  here.  Has  idealism  em- 
ployed such  a  subjectivism,  or  has  it  been  able 
to  dispense  with  it?  For  it  must  be  admitted  that  no 
philosophy  can  without  contradiction  both  employ  and 
reject  the  same  assertion. 

The  answer  would  seem  to  be  perfectly  clear.  Idealism 
gets  its  proof  from  putting  a  certain  construction  on  human 
consciousness,  that  being  the  only  instance  that  comes  under 
observation.  The  idealist  must,  then,  first  regard  human 
consciousness  as  constitutive  of  its  objects.  Where  this 
theory  is  strictly  maintained,  it  holds  not  only  of  the 
individual  consciousness,  but  even  of  the  momentary  con- 
sciousness. But  the  idealist  himself  sees  that  this  involves 
contradictions.  It  provides  no  way  of  distinguishing  the  true 
or  valid  cases  of  knowledge  from  mere  opinion.  All  cogni- 
tive states  are  made  equally  authoritative  with  reference  to 
their  objects.  And  where,  as  often  happens,  the  same  object 
is  differently  and  inconsistently  known  in  several  cognitive 
states,  there  is  no  way  of  relieving  the  contradiction.  So 
objective  idealism  is  led  to  attribute  constitutive  validity 
only  to  some  standard  or  universal  consciousness,  which 
shall  afford  objects  their  true  and  permanent  ground. 

But  this  requires  a  correction  of  the  initial  interpretation 
of  the  individual  or  momentary  consciousness.  We  must 
now  suppose  that  these  instances  of  consciousness  do  not 
constitute  their  objects;  but  either  conform  to  them  or 
misrepresent  them.  In  other  words,  objects  are  now 
independent  of  those  concrete  instances  of  consciousness 
which  first  came  under  observation.  And  then  what 
becomes  of  the  proof  of  idealism?  Having  construed  his 


OBJECTIVE   IDEALISM  163 

own  and  his  neighbor's  consciousness  realistically,  where  is 
the  idealist  to  find  the  analogy  for  his  hypothetical  uni- 
versal consciousness?  And  what  occasion  is  there  now  for 
a  universal  consciousness?  Had  the  idealist  begun  with  a 
realistic  version  of  human  consciousness,  the  error  of  sub- 
jectivism would  never  have  arisen,  and  his  universal 
consciousness  would  have  been  a  gratuitous  as  well  as  a 
meaningless  invention. 

Thus  the  error  which  idealism  corrects  with  so  much  cere- 
mony proves  to  be  indispensable  to  its  own  inner  develop- 
ment. The  error  must  be  cherished  if  there  is  to  be  any 
demand  for  remedial  intervention.  Subjectivism  cannot 
be  abolished;  it  must,  as  has  been  frankly  avowed,  be 
retained  as  a  " Durchgangsiadium"  on  the  way  to  a  complete 
idealism.1  But  either  objective  idealism  must  be  taken  as 
rejecting  subjectivism,  in  which  case  it  must  banish  it  alto- 
gether from  its  councils,  and  start  from  an  account  of  human 
consciousness  that  is  wholly  free  from  it;  or  it  must  be  taken 
as  accepting  subjectivism,  in  which  case  it  stands  condemned 
by  its  own  admissions. 

The  basal  arguments  for  idealism  are  the  same  as  those 
for  subjectivism.  The  arguments  from  'the  ego-centric 
predicament/  and  from  'initial  predication,'  if  they  prove 
anything,  prove  subjectivism  —  even  the  extremes  of  rela- 
tivism and  solipsism.  If  they  do  not  prove  anything,  then 
idealism,  subjective  and  objective  alike,  is  left  unproved. 
In  either  case,  the  ground  on  which  the  idealistic  system 
has  been  erected  affords  no  reliable  support.  Whether  this 
system  is  to  be  valued  as  an  illumination  of  life  cannot  yet 
be  judged.  For  there  is  another  primary  motive,  the  motive 
of  absolutism,  with  which  the  cardinal  idealistic  principle 
has  come  to  be  allied.  And  it  is  impossible  to  reach  any 
final  estimate  of  idealism  as  a  religious  philosophy  without 
examining  absolutism  on  its  own  independent  grounds. 

1  Cf.  Rickert.  op.  cit.,  p.  56. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ABSOLUTE  IDEALISM  AND  RELIGION 

§  i.  THE  religion  of  an  idealist  is  not  a  forlorn  hope,  or 
a  defence  of  last  ditches,  but  an  enjoyment  of  all  the  emo- 
The  General  ^ons  °*  sovereignty.  Idealism  undertakes  to 
Meaning  of  substantiate  the  extreme  claims  of  faith, — the 
Absolutism  creation  of  matter  by  spirit,  the  indestructible 
significance  of  every  human  person,  and  the  unlimited 
supremacy  of  goodness.  The  terms  of  a  devotional  mys- 
ticism—  Spirit,  Perfection,  Eternity,  Infinity  —  appear  in 
the  very  letter  of  its  discourse.  Nor  has  this  promise  of 
good  tidings  been  unheeded.  Idealism  has  acquired  pres- 
tige and  a  position  of  authority.  While  it  has  little  if 
any  direct  access  to  the  popular  mind,  it  is  resorted  to 
habitually  by  the  middle  men  of  enlightenment,  by  clergy- 
men, litterateurs,  lecturers,  and  teachers.  Hence  it  comes 
about  that  many  an  honest  man  has  invested  all  his  hopes 
of  salvation  in  the  adventure.  And  this  is  my  apology  for 
undertaking  to  audit  its  accounts;  the  question  of  its 
solvency  being  of  no  small  human  importance. 

The  religious  creed  of  idealism  may  be  said  to  contain 
two  major  articles.  The  one  of  these  is  the  cardinal  prin- 
ciple already  examined  —  the  assertion  of  the  priority  of 
consciousness  in  the  act  of  cognition.  The  second  article 
is  the  principle  of  absolutism,  and  with  this  we  shall,  in  the 
present  chapter,  be  chiefly  occupied. 

The  sense  in  which  I  propose  to  employ  the  term  '  ab- 
solutism,' is  to  be  distinguished  from  two  other  senses  in 
which  it  is  also  currently  employed.  These  other  uses  of 
the  term  appear,  it  is  true,  chiefly  in  the  writings  of 
idealists;  but  they  may  nevertheless  be  regarded  as  quite 
independent.  In  the  first  place,  'absolute'  is  often  taken 
164 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  165 

to  mean  the  antithesis  of  '  relative ' ;  and  is  used  to  char- 
acterize such  fact,  being,  or  truth,  as  is  independent  of  the 
vagaries  of  a  fallible  mind.  But  it  is  quite  possible  to 
accept  absolutism  in  this  sense,  as  indeed  it  is  accepted 
both  by  naturalism  and  by  realism,  without  accepting 
any  of  the  distinguishing  premises  of  absolute  idealism.1 
In  the  second  place,  'absolute'  may  be  taken  to  mean 
'certain/  as  opposed  to  'probable'  or  'hypothetical.'  Ab- 
solutism in  this  sense  signifies  the  theory  that  some  truths 
are  indubitable;  capable  of  being  established  dialectically, 
and  not  subject  to  correction  by  experience.  But  this 
theory  relates  to  a  special  question  of  methodology  or 
logic  which  may  be  treated  quite  independently  of  the 
broader  issues  raised  in  the  present  discussion. 

As  I  shall  employ  the  term,  absolutism  means  the 
assertion  of  a  maximum  or  superlative  ideal  having  meta- 
physical validity.  This  ideal,  variously  construed  as  "the 
Good,"  "the  Infinite  Substance,"  "the  ens  realissimum," 
"the  Universal  Will,"  etc.,  is  the  Absolute;  or,  in  the 
language  of  religion,  God.  Absolutism  in  this  sense  may, 
and  commonly  does,  embrace  absolutism  in  the  first  and 
second  senses;  for  one  may  maintain  that  such  an  ideal 
alone  possesses  objective  validity  and  certainty,  and  escapes 
relativity  and  contingency.  But  I  shall  from  thenceforth 
employ  the  term  in  this  third  and  most  general  sense. 

It  will  be  remarked  that  absolutism  is  closely  related  to 
'the  speculative  dogma'  which  we  have  already  encoun- 
tered as  a  motive  in  naturalism.2  This  dogma  consists  in 
the  assumption  of  an  all-general,  all-sufficient  first  principle; 
and  arises  from  the  tendency  to  anticipate  that  complete 
unification  toward  which  knowledge  appears  progressively 
to  move.  Absolutism  is  the  expression  of  this  motive  in 
its  purity.  It  is  the  formulation  of  the  goal  of  knowledge 
from  an  analysis  of  the  process  and  trend  of  knowledge; 
and  the  assertion  of  that  goal  as  necessary.  So  that  while 
absolutism  is  allied  with  na'ive  naturalism  in  its  acceptance 
1  Cf.  below,  pp.  335-340-  *  See  above,  pp.  64-65. 


1 66        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

of  the  speculative  ideal,  it  is  distinguished  therefrom  by 
its  method.  It  regards  the  speculative  ideal  as  an  ideal, 
and  expressly  formulates  it  as  such.  Thus  absolutism  is 
not  merely  monistic,  as  is  nai've  naturalism;  but  is  also 
normative,  in  that  its  cosmic  unity  is  the  limit  or  standard 
of  the  activity  of  thought.1 

The  motive  of  absolutism  is  evidently  quite  independent 
of  the  cardinal  principle  of  idealism.  Absolutism,  indeed, 
had  already  had  a  long  and  significant  historical  develop- 
ment of  its  own,  prior  to  the  advent  of  idealism.  Hence 
in  order  to  understand  '  absolute  idealism/  the  union  of  the 
two,  we  shall  do  well  first  to  isolate  absolutism,  and  examine 
it  on  its  own  grounds.  And  for  this  purpose  it  will  be  con- 
venient to  confine  our  attention  to  two  great  exponents  of 
this  doctrine,  Plato  and  Spinoza  —  the  one  ancient,  the 
other  modern.  These  great  thinkers  are  eminently  repre- 
sentative of  an  absolutism  that  did  not  enjoy  the  support 
of  idealism.  The  characteristic  difficulties  which  beset  their 
philosophies  are  the  characteristic  difficulties  of  absolutism 
proper;  and  having  comprehended  them,  we  shall  be  in 
a  position  to  judge  of  the  success  of  absolute  idealism 
in  overcoming  them.  These  characteristic  difficulties  are, 
I  believe,  three:  formalism,  equivocation,  and  dogmatism. 

§  2.  Absolutism's  first  and  only  undisputed  success 
was  the  discovery  of  logic.  This  science  began  when  it 
was  observed  that  the  'things'  of  practical 
c°mmon  sense,  the  gross  objects  of  motion, 
the  Logical  manipulation,  and  social  intercourse,  could  be 
analyzed;  and  that  such  analysis  revealed 
certain  highly  general  and  perhaps  universal 
terms  of  discourse,  such  as  'being,'  'negation/  'unity,' 
'manyness/  'space/  'number/  etc.2  While  the  list  of  these 

1  In  other  words,  absolutism  is  'idealistic'  in  the  popular  sense  of  the 
term.  I  have  employed  this  term  exclusively  to  refer  to  the  theory  of  the 
priority  of  consciousness.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  same  word  should 
refer  to  this,  and  also  the  quite  different  notion  of  '  ideals.' 

1  Plato  is  perhaps  the  founder  of  logic  in  this  sense.  Cf.,  e.g.,  the  Par- 
menidcs. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  167 

'categories/  or  'logical  constants,'  is  by  no  means  finally 
made  up,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  there  are  such  entities. 
In  other  words  there  are  some  terms  that  satisfy  the  condi- 
tion of  unlimited  generality.  And  this  fact  alone  would 
entitle  absolutism  to  respectful  consideration. 

But  absolutism  demands  much  more.  These  general 
categories  must  be  unified  and  proved  all-sufficient.  They 
must  either  form  a  systematic  whole  or  be  deduced  from 
some  supreme  category;  and  this  higher  unity,  in  turn, 
must  explain  the  facts  of  existence.  Plato  defined  this 
systematic  unity  or  supreme  category  as  the  "good." 
"When  a  person  starts  on  the  discovery  of  the  absolute  by 
the  light  of  reason  only,  and  without  any  assistance  of  sense, 
if  he  perseveres  by  pure  intelligence,  he  attains  at  last  to 
the  idea  of  good,  and  finds  himself  at  the  end  of  the  intel- 
lectual world."  What,  in  the  last  analysis,  Plato  meant 
by  the  good  it  is  impossible  to  say,  without  falling  into 
those  equivocations  which  I  am  going  to  treat  separately 
under  the  next  heading.  But  confining  ourselves  for  the 
present  to  the  relatively  logical  aspect  of  Plato's  concep- 
tion, we  may  say  that  he  meant  by  the  good,  the  significant, 
the  intelligible — that  which  has  meaning.  The  categories,  in 
their  own  inner  "dialectical"  relations  give  meaning  to 
things,  and  so  are  not  only  "  the  author  of  knowledge  in  all 
things  known,  but  of  their  being  and  essence"  as  well.1 

Now  admitting  that  for  logical  reasons  all  things  must 
be  regarded  as  significant,  or  as  having  meaning,  it  is  no 
less  clear  that  an  ultimate  principle,  such  as  this,  in  which 
every  concession  has  been  made  to  generality,  is  grossly 
inadequate  to  everything  to  which  it  applies.  What  has  been 
gained  in  breadth  has  been  lost  in  thickness.  The  rich 
nature  of  concrete  objects  is  left  wholly  out  of  the  account, 
and  has  no  necessary  relation  whatsoever  to  the  first  prin- 
ciple. Why  this  particular  world  should  be  as  it  is,  one 
does  not  in  the  least  understand  from  the  bare  conception 

1  Republic,  trans,  by  Jowett,  532  A,  508  E,  509  B.  Cf.  above,  pp.  31, 
114-115. 


1 68        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

of  significance  or  meaning.  This  sacrifice  of  sufficiency  to 
generality,  this  neglect  of  the  insufficiency  of  purely  logical 
categories,  is  what  I  mean  by  the  error  of  formalism. 

Let  us  consider  the  same  difficulty  in  connection  with 
the  absolutism  of  Spinoza.  That  philosopher  cleared  him- 
self of  what  he  regarded  as  a  confusion  in  Plato  between 
logic  and  teleology,  and  sought  to  establish  his  system  upon 
the  firm  basis  of  the  deductive  method.  His  supreme  cate- 
gory is  substance]  and  by  substance  he  means  "that  which 
is  in  itself,  and  is  conceived  through  itself."1  In  other 
words  substance  is  definite,  that  is,  possesses  certain  inher- 
ent attributes;  and  self-sufficient,  that  is,  possesses  all  modes 
of  itself  internally.  Substance  is  not  necessarily  good,  since 
that  conception  refers  properly  only  to  human  interests, 
and  is  therefore  limited  in  range;  substance  is  simply  an 
eternal  and  inalienable  nature,  together  with  its  inex- 
orable implications.  In  this  sense,  according  to  Spinoza, 
substance  is  the  universal  principle. 

But  though  this  may  be  a  general  characterization  of 
reality,  it  is  hopelessly  inadequate.  It  throws  no  light 
whatsoever  on  what  in  particular  things  are,  and  on  what 
in  particular  they  imply.  They  might  be  and  imply  any- 
thing, so  far  as  this  conception  is  concerned.  It  is  and 
remains  a  logical  conception,  referring  to  the  most  general 
or  abstract  aspect  of  experience,  and  leaving  all  that 
remains,  the  vast  bulk  of  nature  and  history,  wholly  out 
of  account. 

It  is  true  that  Plato  did  not  mean  to  define  reality  in 
terms  of  bare  intelligibility,  and  that  Spinoza  did  not  mean 
to  define  it  in  terms  of  bare  substantiality.  Nevertheless 
they  did  not,  I  think,  succeed  in  doing  more,  in  so  far  as 
they  confined  themselves  to  strictly  logical  considerations. 
And  only  so  far  as  they  did  so  conceive  the  absolute  in 
abstract  logical  terms,  were  they  able  to  prove  its  unlimited 
generality. 

1  Ethics,  trans,  by  Elwes,  p.  45',  cf.  Part  I,  passim.  Cf.  above,  pp.  33, 
115-117. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  169 

§  3.  If  the  absolute  is,  then,  to  be  all-sufficient  as  well 

as  all-general,  it  must  be  endowed  with  other  than  purely 

logical  characters.    The  logical  first  principle 

Equivocation,  .  T/-     i    ,        , 

Arising  from  the  must  be  interpreted  and  amplified  by  bor- 
Attempt  to  ES-  rowing  the  more  sufficient  terms  of  nature  or 
life.  But  these  terms  while  they  are  clear  in 
their  limited  application,  at  once  become  equivocal  when 
generalized.1 

Let  us  consider,  for  example,  Plato's  attempt  to  construe 
meaning  or  intelligibility  in  terms  of  some  concrete  human 
variety  of  goodness.  Experience  doubtless  affords  analogies, 
but  only  analogies  that  are  essentially  limited  in  application. 
Thus  a  well-organized  society,  in  which  human  interests 
are  harmoniously  adjusted  and  brought  to  fulfilment,  may 
be  said  to  owe  its  meaning  to  the  propriety  and  excellence 
of  its  activities.  To  be  understood  at  all  it  has  to  be  under- 
stood as  good.  But  the  concepts  of  political  theory  are  of 
limited  generality.  Not  even  society  in  its  historical  form 
can  be  said  to  be  a  true  polity;  while  nature  falls  outside 
the  range  of  such  principles  altogether.  Similarly,  art, 
where  this  is  ideal,  is  also  intelligible  in  so  far  as  good.  But 
neither  is  nature  art,  nor  is  all  art  ideal.  The  ultimate 
good,  then,  can  be  neither  a  perfect  society  nor  a  perfect 
work  of  art,  because  these  conceptions,  while  they  are 
sufficient  and  illuminating  in  a  certain  context,  are  not 
all-general. 

There  is  a  third  sense  in  which  the  intelligible  is  good: 
as  the  consummation  of  the  theoretical  interest  —  the 
truth  sought  and  won.  But  here  again  it  is  clear  that  we 
have  to  do  with  a  particular  and  complex  process  which  it 
is  impossible  to  generalize.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  all  things  whatsoever  are  comprehended  within  one 
moment  of  ecstatic  contemplation.  Without  the  use  of 
the  idealistic  principle  (of  which  Plato  was  quite  innocent) 
such  a  contention  cannot  even  be  made  plausible.  The 

1  We  have  already  observed  this  fact  in  the  case  of  attempts  to  gen- 
eralize physical  concepts.  See  above,  pp.  69,  71  ff. 


1 70        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

truth  that  is  enjoyed,  is  but  a  small  fraction  of  the  being 
that  is.  Furthermore,  though  we  narrow  the  world  to 
the  process  of  thought,  it  must  yet  be  objected  that  not 
all  thought  is  crowned  with  success. 

What,  then,  is  that  perfect  goodness  which  is  the  author 
of  the  "being  and  essence"  of  all  things?  Clearly  it  is  not 
a  case  of  moral  goodness,  or  of  beauty,  or  even  of  truth, 
in  the  sense  of  intellectual  happiness.  And  yet  Plato 
freely  attributes  all  three  of  these  values  to  it!  But  does 
he  mean  to  do  so  literally?  It  is  impossible  to  say;  for 
at  this  point  the  absolutist  begins  to  speak  a  strange  tongue. 
The  good  is  not  good  in  any  known  sense,  only  because  it 
is  of  surpassing  goodness.  It  is  more,  not  less  —  than 
virtue,  beauty,  and  insight.  Now  to  be  good,  and  to  have 
goodness  enhanced  by  other  values  beside,  this  truly  is  to  be 
more  than  good;  but  to  be  lacking  in  goodness  through 
excess  of  it,  to  be  more  than  good  and  yet  not  good  at  all  — 
this  passes  comprehension.  And  yet  precisely  this  profound 
and  misleading  equivocation  lies  at  the  root  of  all  Platonic 
mysticism. 

An  admirable  illustration  of  this  procedure  of  thought 
is  afforded  by  the  theology  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite, 
the  Christian  neo-Platonist.  I  quote  from  Berkeley's 
account. 

"In  his  treatise  of  the  Celestial  Hierarchy,  he  saith  that 
God  is  something  above  all  essence  and  life;  and  again, 
in  his  treatise  of  the  Divine  Names,  that  He  is  above  all 
wisdom  and  understanding,  ineffable  and  innominable; 
the  wisdom  of  God  he  terms  an  unreasonable,  unintelligent, 
and  foolish  wisdom.  But  then  the  reason  he  gives  for 
expressing  himself  in  this  strange  manner  is,  that  the 
Divine  wisdom  is  the  cause  of  all  reason,  wisdom,  and 
understanding,  and  therein  are  contained  the  treasures  of 
all  wisdom  and  knowledge.  He  calls  God  virepo-o^os  and 
vWp£o>?;  as  if  wisdom  and  life  were  words  not  worthy 
to  express  the  Divine  perfections:  and  he  adds  that  the 
attributes  unintelligent  and  unperceiving  must  be  ascribed 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  171 

to  the  Divinity,  not  *<"•'  eXX«</w}  by  way  of  defect,  but 
/ca0'  virepoxyv,  by  way  of  eminency ;  which  he  explains  by  our 
giving  the  name  of  darkness  to  light  inaccessible."1 

In  its  endeavor  to  give  concrete  sufficiency  to  its  first 
principle,  absolutism  is  thus  driven  from  one  error  to 
another  —  from  formalism  to  equivocation.  The  truly 
general,  or  logical,  elements  of  experience  having  proved 
insufficient  to  the  complex  objects  in  which  they  are  found, 
conceptions  that  are  sufficient  within  limits  are  now  ren- 
dered equivocal  through  being  employed  symbolically  or 
analogically  beyond  those  limits. 

§  4.  The  nature  of  the  all-general,  all-sufficient  principle 
thus  remains  problematic,  because  the  most  general  cate- 
gories are  insufficient,  and  the  most  sufficient 

I  he  Dogmatic  .  ,. 

character  of  categories  are  limited  in  generality.  What, 
Absolutism.  now,  shall  be  said  of  the  proof  of  such  a  prin- 
ciple? It  is  argued  that  knowledge  employs 
a  principle  which  admits  of  degrees;  that  knowledge  can 
be  complete  only  when  this  principle  reaches  a  maximum; 
and  that  since  we  must  attribute  to  reality  the  character 
it  obtains  in  complete  knowledge,  we  must  define  it  in 
terms  of  such  a  maximum.  It  appears,  however,  that  the 
principles  which  knowledge  employs  do  not  define  a  maxi- 
mum; and  that  were  their  limitations  removed  they  would 
at  once  lose  their  meaning. 

Let  us  turn  again  to  the  case  of  Plato.  He  would  say 
that  we  know  things  in  so  far  as  we  apprehend  them  as 
good;  and  would  proceed  to  infer  their  absolute  goodness. 
But  in  every  verifiable  case  of  such  knowledge  the  good- 
ness of  things  is  limited.  Thus,  for  example,  the  activity 
of  the  wise  ruler  is  good  and  intelligible  in  that  it  answers 
to  the  demands  of  social  life,  and  to  concrete  historical 

1  Berkeley:  Akiphron  or  the  Minute  Philosopher,  Eraser's  edition,  Vol. 
II,  pp.  182-183.  Berkeley's  comment  is  as  follows:  "Upon  the  whole, 
although  this  method  of  growing  in  expression  and  dwindling  in  notion,  of 
clearing  up  doubts  by  nonsense,  and  avoiding  difficulties  by  running  into 
affected  contradictions,  may  perhaps  proceed  from  a  well-meant  zeal,  yet 
it  appears  not  to  be  according  to  knowledge." 


172        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

exigencies.  Without  reference  to  these  limiting  conditions 
it  is  impossible  to  define  the  goodness  of  the  ruler;  and  if 
that  reference  be  condemned,  then  the  method  of  definition 
is  condemned.  There  is  no  ground  for  the  assertion  of  a 
perfection  so  exalted  that  it  shall  be  limited  by  no  con- 
ditions whatsoever. 

Nor  is  the  situation  essentially  altered  if  a  more  general 
conception  of  value  is  employed.  Suppose  that  we  define 
the  activity  of  the  ruler  in  terms  of  the  demands  of  social 
life,  and  then  define  these  in  terms  of  the  demands  of 
human  nature.  Social  life  itself  may  then  be  understood 
in  the  Platonic  way,  as  the  organization  of  activities  neces- 
sary to  the  expression  of  the  ideal  essence  of  man.  But 
even  so,  although  what  man  does  may  now  be  understood 
as  good  in  terms  of  what  man  is,  the  ideal  essence  of  man 
has  itself  to  be  denned  in  terms  of  categories  that  are  not 
teleological  at  all.  And  if  this  be  regarded  as  vicious, 
then  the  whole  method  is  vicious.  Similarly,  every  case 
of  knowledge  by  teleological  principles  involves  the  appre- 
hension and  acceptance  of  some  elements  which  are  not 
determined  by  such  principles.  We  are  not  justified  in 
projecting  a  good  that  shall  be  all  good,  or  a  teleological 
system  that  shall  be  through  and  through  teleological,  for 
this  would  be  to  contradict  the  meaning  of  goodness  and 
teleology. 

Nor  does  absolutism  succeed  any  better  if  we  substitute 
the  mathematical-deductive  logic  of  Spinoza  for  the  teleo- 
logical logic  of  Plato.  Spinoza  thought  that  the  concep- 
tion of  substance  implied  the  conception  of  an  absolute 
substance  that  is  "self-caused"  in  that  its  "essence  in- 
volves existence";  and  "infinite,"  in  that  it  contains  all 
attributes  in  its  definition,  and  implies  all  things  and 
events  as  its  modes.1  But  precisely  as  there  is  no  absolute 
maximum  definable  in  terms  of  goodness,  so  there  is  no  ab- 
solute maximum  definable  in  terms  of  deductive  necessity. 
The  actual  deductive  systems  of  human  knowledge  are 

1  Spinoza:   Ethics,  loc.  cit. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  173 

those  in  which,  as  in  the  case  of  Euclidean  geometry  or  the 
Newtonian  mechanics,  the  axioms,  postulates,  indefinables, 
etc.  —  that  is,  the  terms  and  propositions  that  are  not 
deduced  —  are  few  and  fruitful.  The  investigator  doubt- 
less makes  them  as  few  and  as  fruitful  as  possible.  But 
there  is  no  deductive  principle  that  determines  how  few 
or  how  fruitful  they  shall  be.  The  deductive  method, 
which  is  the  basis  of  Spinoza's  system,  clearly  requires 
some  elements  that  are  not  deduced.  These  elements  stand 
in  certain  simple  relations,  such  as  difference,  to  one  another; 
but  they  are  not  brought  under  the  determination  of  the 
principles  of  the  system  itself.  Now  this  being  the  case,  it 
is  clearly  absurd  to  infer  an  absolute  system  in  which 
every  element  shall  be  deduced  —  a  system  in  which, 
through  excess  of  deductive  cogency,  the  very  conditions 
of  deduction  shall  be  removed ! 

Or,  if  this  be  untrue  to  Spinoza's  real  intent,  it  is  still 
gratuitous  even  to  infer  that  there  shall  be  but  one  deduc- 
tive system.  There  is,  let  us  grant,  a  universal  totality; l  but 
is  there  any  reason  why  it  should  possess  any  definite  degree 
of  deductive  unity?  Is  there  any  reason  why  that  totality 
should  not  be  composed  of  many  systems  which  are  related 
to  one  another,  as  are  the  non-deductive  elements  within 
these  several  systems?  Now  if  it  be  contended  that  this  is 
equivalent  to  the  assertion  of  a  single  all-embracing  system, 
of  which  the  particular  systems,  such  as  geometry,  me- 
chanics, ethics,  etc.,  shall  be  the  axioms,  then  we  have  only 
to  remind  ourselves  of  the  entire  insignificance  of  such  a  con- 
tention. There  is  no  ground  for  determining  whether  these 
several  systems,  together  with  such  systems  as  exceed 
present  knowledge,  form  a  highly  coherent  or  a  loosely 
collective  system.  It  is  entirely  possible  that  together 
they  imply  nothing  other  than  that  which  they  imply 
severally,  except  the  collective  totality  of  all  that  they 

1  On  the  ground  that  all  the  components  of  the  universe  must  be  some- 
how 'related.'  That  relation  does  not  imply  dependence  and  unity,  is  the 
contention  of  'pluralism.'  The  issue  is  discussed  below,  pp.  242-246. 


174       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

imply.  In  other  words,  we  are  justified  in  saying  no  more 
than  that  if  we  knew  all  the  first  principles,  we  could  deduce 
all  objects  and  events.  No  self-respecting  philosopher 
would  go  to  the  trouble  of  proving  this,  and  it  is  certain 
that  Spinoza  did  not  mean  to  assert  so  trivial  and  obvious 
a  proposition.  But  the  dilemma  is  unavoidable.  Either 
he  is  limited  to  that  conclusion,  or  he  must  be  charged  with 
attempting  to  override  his  own  logic  —  with  seeking  to 
find  an  argument  for  an  absolute  deductive  system  by 
condemning  the  deductive  method  itself. 

Thus  the  proof  of  absolutism  fails  through  the  fact  that 
neither  teleology  nor  deduction  defines  an  absolute  maxi- 
mum or  ideal.  And  this  failure  is  fraught  with  serious 
consequences.  For  in  order  to  prove  the  necessity  of 
'absolute'  knowledge,  the  actual  instances  of  knowledge 
are  virtually  discredited.  In  other  words,  the  procedure 
of  absolutism  involves  more  than  inconsistency  and  failure 
—  it  involves  agnosticism,  that  is,  the  denial  of  positive 
knowledge,  and  the  substitution  for  it  of  an  unrealized 
project.  It  encourages  the  sweeping  condemnation  of 
science,  and  an  irresponsible  and  autocratic  procedure  in 
philosophy. 

Such,  then,  was  the  state  of  absolutism  at  the  time  of 
Kant.  Ambitious  in  the  interests  of  the  speculative  dogma 
to  formulate  an  all-general  and  all-sufficient  principle,  it 
neglected  the  essential  formality  and  abstractness  of  logic 
(the  discovery  of  which  was  its  great  achevement);  it 
violated  the  meaning  of  ethical,  physical,  and  other  con- 
ceptions by  over-generalizing  them;  and  disparaged  actual 
knowledge  by  arbitrarily  asserting  a  problematic  concep- 
tion of  ideal  knowledge.  We  have  now  to  consider  whether 
modern  idealism,  profiting  by  the  insight  of  Kant1  has 
succeeded  in  avoiding  formalism,  equivocation,  and  dog- 
matism. 

§  5.  There  is,  as  we  have  seen,  a  merely  'critical'  as 

1  Inasmuch  as  'absolute  idealism'  is  identified  with  objective  idealism  — 
it  develops  from  Kant,  rather  than  from  Berkeley. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  175 

well  as  a  metaphysical,  Kantianism.1  A  critical  or  strictly 
logical  Kantianism  commends  that  philosopher  for  his  re- 
Transition  to  discovery  of  the  categories,  and  for  his  con- 
Absolute  tributions  toward  their  complete  formulation 
Abilu™  ThC  and  systematic  classification.  If  this  interpre- 
Cognitive  tation  be  set  aside,  as  having  no  necessary 
Consciousness  connectjon  ^th  ^g  idealistic  metaphysics, 
only  one  alternative  remains.  If  Kant's  originality  does 
not  lie  in  the  formulation  of  the  category  of  synthetic 
unity,  then  it  must  lie  in  the  contention  that  this  and 
other  categories  are  supplied  or  enacted  by  consciousness. 
And  in  this  contention  metaphysical  idealists  of  all  schools 
are  virtually  agreed.2 

We  are  now  concerned,  not  with  the  merits  of  this  con- 
tention, but  with  its  bearing  upon  absolutism.  United 
with  absolutism  it  gives  rise  to  the  philosophy  known 
as  'absolute  idealism.'  Reality  is  defined  in  terms  of  an 
absolute  cognitive  consciousness,  that  is  both  prior  to  things 
known,  in  the  idealistic  sense,  and  also  a  maximum  or 
ideal,  in  the  absolutist  sense.  The  Absolute  Good  of 
Plato,  and  the  Infinite  Substance  of  Spinoza,  are  thus 
replaced  by  the  "Absolute  Idea"  of  Hegel;  and  by  such 
contemporary  conceptions  as  Professor  Royce's  "absolutely 
organized  experience  inclusive  of  all  possible  experience," 
or  "the  absolute  self -fulfilment,  absolutely  self-contained 
significance"  of  the  "one  and  only  one"  ideal  experience, 
described  by  Mr.  Joachim.3  Let  us  inquire,  then,  whether 
idealistic  absolutism,  such  as  this,  escapes  the  formalism, 
equivocation  and  dogmatism  of  earlier  absolutism. 

§  6.  The  absolute  idealist,  like  the  pre-Kantian  absolu- 
Formaiism  ^st'  necessarily  turns  to  those  properties  of 
in  Absolute  things  which  have  the  maximum  of  general- 
Idealism  -ty  jjke  kis  forerunnerS)  he  depends  for 
the  definition  of  his  universal  principle  upon  the  logical 

1  See  Chap.  VII,  §5.  *  See  above,  pp.  154-156. 

1  J.  Royce:  Conception  of  God,  p.  31;  H.  H.  Joachim:  The  Nature  of 
Truth,  p.  78. 


176        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

categories.  And  his  universal  consciousness  must  again  be 
defined  exclusively  in  terms  of  these  categories,  since  no 
other  attributes  will  measure  up  to  its  unlimited  generality. 
The  Kantian  category  which  has  assumed  fundamental 
importance  is,  as  we  have  seen,  that  of  synthetic  unity, 
or  systematic  totality.  The  absolute  consciousness, 
then,  is  that  which  contributes  to  all  things,  by  the 
thinking  or  the  willing  of  them,  those  determinate  inter- 
relationships by  virtue  of  which  they  form  a  consistent 
and  orderly  universe.  The  world  is  one  systematic  whole, 
thought  or  willed. 

Now  such  is  the  power  of  words  that  this  rings  like  an 
important  conclusion.  And  yet  it  explains  so  little  that  a 
scientist,  moralist,  or  religious  believer  would  be  justified 
in  conceding  it  without  hesitation.  For  as  respects  the 
issues  of  science,  morality,  even  of  religion,  it  is  utterly  non- 
committal; it  is  consistent  with  anything.  When  the  idealist 
proceeds  further,  and  enumerates  certain  subordinate  cat- 
egories, such  as  difference,  identity,  quality,  etc.,  where- 
with the  absolute  consciousness  effects  this  union  of  things 
into  a  systematic  whole,  he  has  to  reckon  with  the  logician, 
but  he  can  still  be  safely  ignored  by  everyone  else.  In 
other  words,  if  consciousness  is  to  be  generalized,  it  must 
be  defined  in  logical  terms;  and  when  so  defined  it  serves 
— -  to  explain  the  logical  elements  of  experience,  and  nothing 
more.  To  explain  the  other  aspects  of  experience,  one 
must  look  to  other,  and,  as  will  inevitably  be  the  case, 
less  general  principles. 

It  is  significant  that  idealism  loses  its  pragmatic  value, 
its  fruitfulness  of  application  and  pertinence  to  life,  in 
proportion  to  the  refinement  of  its  logic.  There  was  a 
time  when  idealists  believed  that  the  specific  characters  of 
spirit  could  be  assigned  a  universal  logical  value,  and  so 
be  attributed  to  nature  and  history.  But  there  has  been 
a  growing  tendency  to  abandon  the  logic  of  spirit;  and  to 
accept,  on  the  one  hand,  some  general  formal  category 
such  as  of  'relation,'  'unity,'  'coherence,'  etc.;  and,  on  the 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  177 

other  hand,  the  special  categories  of  the  sciences  as  they 
stand.  In  thus  formalizing  and  neutralizing  their  universal 
principles,  idealists  have  bettered  their  logic,  but  at  the 
expense  of  their  metaphysics.  The  old-inspired  idealism 
of  art,  literature,  and  life,  the  idealism  that  made  a  differ- 
ence, has  been  discredited  by  idealists  themselves. 

Thus  the  weakness  of  Hegel,  from  the  later  idealistic 
point  of  view,  lies  not  in  his  general  programme,  but  in  the 
fact  that  he  boldly  set  about  carrying  it  out.  He  made 
too  many  positive  assertions.  The  fact  that  Hegel  did 
make  positive  assertions  about  natural  evolution,  about 
historical  development,  and  about  international  politics, 
accounts  for  the  fact  that  his  philosophy  was  of  vital  human 
consequence,  and  to  many  a  source  of  inspiration.  But 
today  no  one  is  more  ready  than  the  idealist  to  point  out 
that  Hegel  made  the  mistake  of  forcing  'psychological' 
categories  upon  nature  and  history.  He  tried  to  deduce 
the  actual  cosmic  process  from  the  laws  of  spirit;  and  it  is 
now  generally  conceded  that  he  failed.  Everyone  but  the 
idealist  explains  his  failure  by  the  falsity  of  the  project 
itself;  but  he  attributes  it  to  the  fact  that  Hegel's  cate- 
gories of  spirit  were  not  purely  logical. 

The  new  way  is  to  identify  spirit  with  'synthetic  unity' 
in  general;  and,  for  the  rest,  with  things  as  they  are.1 
Then,  if  you  require  more  definite  information  you  must 
wait  until  scientists,  historians,  and  others  discover  what 
things  really  are.  But  this  is  what  the  world  has  long 
since  been  doing  anyway.  The  only  advantage  the  idealist 
enjoys  is  the  hope  that  some  day,  when  the  returns  are  all 

1  Or  with  things  as  they  are  not!  For  Mr.  Bradley,  who  discredits  all 
the  special  categories  of  science,  the  valid  special  categories  must  remain 
problematic;  cf.  above,  pp.  101,  150.  Cf.  in  this  connection,  McTaggart: 
Studies  in  Hegelian  Dialectic,  Ch.  VII,  passim.  Admitting  that  Hegel's 
philosophy  of  nature  and  history  cannot  be  sustained,  the  author  says: 
"The  practical  value  of  the  dialectic,  then,  lies  in  the  demonstration  of  a 
general  principle  ('  the  abstract  certainty  which  the  Logic  gives  us  that  all 
reality  is  rational  and  righteous'),  which  can  be  carried  into  particulars  or 
used  as  a  guide  to  action,  only  in  a  very  few  cases,  and  in  those  with  great 
uncertainty."  (pp.  255,  256.)  Cf.  also,  above,  pp.  148-150. 
13 


178        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

in,  he  may  rise  triumphantly  and  say  —  "That  is  the 
Absolute  Spirit."  But  meanwhile  he  must  wait  like  the 
rest  of  us,  or  himself  engage  in  the  lowlier  task  of  studying 
nature  and  life. 

An  analogous  case  is  presented  by  the  gradual  devitaliza- 
tion  of  the  Fichtean  and  Romanticist  tendencies.  One 
would  scarcely  expect  an  orthodox  neo-Fichtean  to  preach 
a  national  uprising.  Carlyle  and  Emerson  would  find 
little  to  their  taste  in  present-day  accounts  of  the  "over- 
individual  will."  And  the  reason  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
absolute  will  has  gradually  been  reduced  to  a  will  that 
things  shall  be  as  they  are,  or  rather  to  the  will  through 
which  things  are  as  they  are.  It  was  once  supposed  that 
the  primacy  of  the  will,  or  the  creative  originality  of  genius, 
had  something  to  do  with  a  man's  power  over  his  environ- 
ment. Idealism  was  the  justification  of  the  religion  of 
self-reliance.  As  an  idealist  a  man  might  substitute  his 
affections  for  the  alien  categories  of  mechanical  science, 
and  discern  behind  the  hard  outer  aspect  of  nature  a 
response  to  his  own  longings.  He  might  assert  himself, 
and  yet  claim  the  world  as  his  own.  Idealism  was  the 
justification  of  faith  in  the  triumph  of  the  human  spirit 
over  its  adversaries  —  the  triumph  of  the  individual  over 
authority,  of  the  nation  over  its  conquerors,  of  humanity 
over  fate. 

But  this  moving  idealism  is  now  condemned  for  its  an- 
thropomorphism. Its  claims  were  so  specific  that  they 
were  exposed  to  refutation.  The  universe  is  not  necessarily 
responsive  to  any  historical  individual  interest.  If,  then, 
'will'  is  to  be  retained  as  the  originating  condition  of  being, 
it  cannot  be  your  will  or  mine,  for  these  prefer  special 
claims  which  events  in  their  neutrality  are  not  disposed 
to  regard;  it  must  be  an  "over-individual  will,"  whose 
essential  character  is  that  it  shall  will  things  as  they  are  — 
whatever  they  are. 

"Cannot  my  will,"  asks  Professor  Munsterberg,  "aim 
at  the  realization  of  an  end  which  does  not  appeal  to  my 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  179 

personal  interest,  but  which  I  will  because  I  enter  into  the 
willing  and  feeling  of  the  independent  world,  and  because 
I  feel  satisfied  if  its  purpose  becomes  realized?  All  this  is 
possible,  it  is  clear,  only  if  two  conditions  are  fulfilled: 
the  objective  world  must  have  a  will  of  its  own,  and  its 
will  must  force  itself  upon  me  and  must  thus  become  my 
own  desire."  In  other  words,  there  is  one  fundamental 
act  of  will,  the  "demand  that  there  be  a  world."  The 
rest  follows  as  a  matter  of  logical  necessity  and  empirical 
fact.  "For  everyone  who  wants  to  have  a  world  at  all, 
all  the  relations  which  result  from  the  self-assertion  of  the 
experiences  must  be  acknowledged  as  absolutely  valid  for 
the  true  world."  * 

But  how  does  such  a  "self-assertion  of  the  world"  differ, 
save  in  name,  from  that  very  impartiality  or  indifference 
from  which  the  romantic  faith  is  popularly  supposed  to 
have  promised  deliverance?  One  is  reminded  of  Heine's 
description  of  Catholicism  as  "a  concordat  between  God 
and  the  devil  —  that  is  to  say,  between  the  spirit  and  the 
senses,  in  which  the  absolute  reign  of  the  spirit  was  pro- 
mulgated in  theory,  but  in  which  the  senses  were  neverthe- 
less practically  reinstated  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  rights."2 
Similarly,  modern  Fichteanism  of  the  more  rigorous  type, 
under  the  influence  of  logical  and  scientific  motives,  has 
virtually  reduced  will  to  an  endorsement  of  necessity  and 
fact.  The  "pure  will,"  "the  only  'a  priori'  for  the  true 
world,"  is  the  "will  for  identities."  3  In  other  words  the 
formal  principle  of  'identity'  as  the  supreme  logical  cate- 
gory, and  the  principle  of  order  in  science,  is  virtually  all 
that  is  left  to  define  the  meaning  of  spirit. 

The  'eternity'  or  universality  of  value  is  thus  con- 
ceived so  formally,  as  not  to  affect  the  really  significant 
moral  and  religious  issues.  Among  the  values  for  which 
men  actually  contend,  absolute  idealism  guarantees  the 

1  Science  and  Idealism,  pp.  31-32;   The  Eternal  Values,  pp.  75,  78. 
1  Prose  Writings,  trans,  by  Havelock  Ellis,  p.  155. 
1  Miinsterberg,  op.  cit.,  p.  79. 


l8o        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

ultimate  conservation  of  but  one,  the  logical  value  of  a 
world-order.  The  attempt  to  invest  will  with  the  uni- 
versality of  logic  has  led  to  the  reduction  of  will  to  logic. 
But  a  will  so  conceived,  while  it  may  claim  universality, 
must  be  insufficient  and  indeterminate  with  reference  to 
life.1 

§  7.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  when  strictly  interpreted 
absolute  idealism  succeeds  in  grounding  reality  in  spirit 
Equivocation  onlv  through  having  first  reduced  spirit  to 
in  Absolute  logic,  it  has  nevertheless  been  offered,  and  is 
still  offered,  as  a  confirmation  of  religious 
belief.  This  is  possible,  I  am  convinced,  only  by 
virtue  of  the  suggestive  power  of  terms  borrowed  from 
religious  tradition,  and  used  without  a  strict  regard 
for  their  meaning.  In  other  words,  idealism,  like  pre- 
Kantian  absolutism,  appears  to  escape  formalism  only 
by  falling  into  the  more  serious  error  of  equivocation. 

The  fundamental  equivocation  in  idealism  is  its  use  of 
terms  that  ordinarily  refer  to  characteristic  forms  of  human 
consciousness  —  such  as  'thought,'  'will,'  'personality,' 
and  'spirit.'  Whatever  may  be  true  of  consciousness  in 
general,2  the  moral  and  religious  significance  of  consciousness 
is  bound  up  with  those  very  elements  which  must  be  elimi- 
nated if  the  conception  is  to  be  employed  as  an  unlimited 
generalization.  Thus  'thought'  suggests  a  stage  of  develop- 
ment in  life,  a  prerogative  of  man,  distinguishing  him  from 
the  greater  part  of  his  environment ;  but  a  universal  thought, 
an  absolute  idea,  must  be  coextensive  with  the  totality  — 
and  exhibited  as  truly  in  the  mechanisms  of  nature  as  in 
the  purposes  of  man.  Indeed,  the  greater  the  stress  laid 
on  the  universality  of  thought,  the  more  is  one  compelled 

1Cf.  also,  above,  pp.  151,  152.  The  'eternity'  of  value  may  be  taken  to 
mean  that  true  judgments  of  value,  like  other  true  judgments,  must  have 
objective  validity,  or  be  in  some  sense  independent  of  the  individual  judging 
mind.  But  this  affects  neither  the  question  as  to  what  is  valuable,  nor  the 
question  as  to  whether  value  shall  prevail.  It  is  thus  non-committal  both 
with  reference  to  morals  and  religion.  Cf.  below,  pp.  335-340. 

»  Cf.  Chap.  XII. 


ABSOLUTE    IDEALISM  l8l 

to  identify  it  with  nature  rather  than  with  man.  The 
term  'will'  belongs  inseparably  to  the  assertion  of  particu- 
lar interests  in  the  face  of  indifferent  circumstance,  and 
in  the  midst  of  other  wills  that  may  be  friendly  or  hos- 
tile. But  an  'over-individual  will'  must  coincide  with  all 
particular  interests  and  also  with  their  environment.  Its 
over-individuality  is  better  exhibited  in  the  environment 
than  in  the  interests  themselves.  Similarly,  "personal 
self"  refers  to  a  coordination  of  "inner  world,  fellow- world, 
and  outer  world."  But  Professor  Miinsterberg,  neverthe- 
less proposes  to  conceive  the  fundamental  principle  from 
which  all  three  are  derived,  as  "selfhood  without  individu- 
ality." "We  might  suggest  it,"  he  writes,  "by  the  words 
'over-self.'  The  over-self  is  therefore  reached  as  soon  as 
the  reference  to  the  personal  conditions  in  our  experience  is 
eliminated.  On  the  other  hand,  as  soon  as  the  over-self 
posits  in  itself  a  limited  personal  self,  its  undifferentiated 
content  must  at  once  separate  itself  into  a  self,  a  co-self, 
and  a  not-self." 1 

Now  such  qualifications  as  'over,'  'super,'  'absolute,' 
attaching  to  words  "by  way  of  eminency,"  in  the  majority 
of  cases  really  alter  their  meaning.  But  since  the  words 
'thought,'  'will/  and  'self'  are  none  the  less  retained,  the 
unsuspecting  layman  not  unnaturally  understands  them 
in  the  familiar  sense,  in  that  sense  in  which  he  can  verify 
them  in  his  own  experience.  The  suggestions  of  these  and 
other  like  terms  must  inevitably  outweigh  the  technical 
meaning  which  they  possess  in  the  discourse  of  idealistic 
philosophy.  The  layman  is  never  really  taken  into  the 
confidence  of  the  augurs.  Hence  he  is  readily  led  to 
believe  that  he  is  guaranteed  the  triumph  of  civilization 
over  the  mechanical  cosmos,  and  of  good  over  evil.  He  is 

1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  395,  398.  Of  all  absolute  idealists,  Bradley  most  consis- 
tently avoids  such  procedure  as  this,  with  the  result  that  his  first  principle 
is  almost  wholly  devoid  of  characters.  For  his  discussion  of  the  self,  see 
Appearance  and  Reality,  Ch.  X,  especially  p.  114.  An  excellent  illustration 
of  this  procedure  is  afforded  by  the  conception  so  much  in  favor  with  critical 
idealists,  of  a  "non-psychological  subject."  Cf.  above,  pp.  140,  144,  146. 


1 82        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

persuaded  that  the  Absolute  takes  sides  with  him  against 
his  foes  and  promises  him  the  victory.  Little  does  he  sus- 
pect that  such  a  being  must  by  definition  stand  uncom- 
mitted to  any  cause,  the  impartial  creator  and  spectator 
of  things  as  they  are. 

The  most  signal  equivocation  of  which  idealism  has  been 
guilty  is  its  use  of  the  terms  'good'  and  'evil.'  Equivoca- 
tion is  involved  even  in  the  project  of  such  a  solution  as  that 
which  idealism  undertakes.  Evil  constitutes  a  problem 
because  it  opposes,  retards,  or  defeats  the  good  will.  If 
evil  were  not  in  this  sense  uncompromisingly  alien  to  good, 
defined  in  contradistinction  to  it,  there  would  be  no  prob- 
lem. Now,  to  solve  this  problem  in  the  idealistic  sense 
means  to  discover  some  way  of  regarding  evil  as  conducive 
to  good,  as  '  good  for '  good,  as  part  of  a  whole  that  is  better 
for  its  presence.  But  such  a  project  necessarily  involves 
a  new  definition  of  good,  in  which  the  old  good  shall  be 
neutralized  through  the  complicity  of  evil.  And  this  is 
undeniably  the  case  with  every  interpretation  of  the 
Absolute's  goodness  that  idealism  has  formulated.1  Good 
and  evil  are  united  in  a  new  conception  of  value,  the  very 
essence  of  which  is  its  implication  of  both  good  and  evil. 
Now  assuming  that  it  is  possible  to  formulate  such  a  con- 
ception, and  to  attribute  to  it  the  unlimited  generality  that 
absolutism  requires,  it  is  certainly  impossible  to  call  it 
'good'  without  equivocation.  For  that  term  will  con- 
tinue to  suggest  what  is  now  construed  as  only  one  of  its 
partial  aspects.  And  the  new  conception  appears  to  be  a 
solution  of  the  original  problem  only  because  of  this  sug- 
gestion. It  seems  to  assert  a  victory  of  good  over  evil, 
whereas  .it  really  asserts  only  a  perpetual  and  doubtful 
battle  between  the  two,  giving  a  certain  fixity  and  finality 
to  the  very  situation  from  which  it  promised  deliverance. 

The  same  motive  which  leads  absolutism  to  the  equivocal 

1  Cf.  McTaggart:  Studies  in  Hegelian  Cosmology,  Chap  VI,  especially 
§§  182-188.  I  return  to  this  subject  in  discussing  pluralism.  Cf.  below,  pp. 
246-248. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  183 

use  of  words  leads  it  to  mysticism.  For  mysticism  is  the 
express  admission  that  the  first  principle  cannot  properly  be 
characterized  at  all.  Words  can  do  no  more  than  suggest 
an  experience  that  lies  beyond  the  reach  of  their  definite 
meanings.  Thus  absolute  idealists  who  seek  to  avoid  both 
formalism  and  agnosticism,  and  who,  like  McTaggart, 
admit  that  self,  will,  and  volition  all  involve  relations  and 
limitations  that  cannot  be  attributed  to  an  absolute,  are 
prompted  to  employ  some  less  articulate  version  of  spirit, 
such  as  "love."  In  terms  of  this  dissolving  emotion  he 
ventures  "to  indicate  the  possibility  of  rinding,  above  all 
knowledge  and  volition,  one  all-embracing  unity,  which  is 
only  not  true,  only  not  good,  because  all  truth  and  all 
goodness  are  but  distorted  shadows  of  its  absolute  perfec- 
tion—  'das  Unbegreifliche,  weil  es  der  Begriff  selbst  ist.'"1 

The  equivocation  into  which  absolute  idealism  so  readily 
falls,  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  an  accident.  It  is  the 
result  of  an  effort  to  escape  formalism.  If  equivocation 
be  strictly  avoided,  there  is  no  content  which  can  be  attrib- 
uted to  the  all-general  principle,  save  the  abstract  and 
insufficient  categories  of  logic. 

§  8.  We  have  now  to  inquire  whether  absolutism  is  en- 
abled by  the  aid  of  idealism  to  escape  dogmatism.  The 
Dogmatism  in  Pr°°f  of  absolutism  depends,  as  we  have  seen, 
Absolute  on  the  implication  of  a  maximum  of  knowledge. 

Idealism  jt  mugt  be  suppOse(J  tnat  as  a  curve  can  foe 

plotted  from  several  points,  so  a  progression  can  be  defined 
from  the  several  instances  of  human  knowledge.  And 
this  progression,  thus  defined,  must  be  supposed  to  define 
a  supreme  or  consummate  knowledge  as  its  upper  limit.2 
Employing  the  idealistic  principle,  and  assuming  that 
reality  is  answerable  to  the  demands  of  the  cognitive  con- 
sciousness, we  may  thus  attribute  to  reality  the  ultimate 
demand  or  ideal  of  the  cognitive  consciousness. 

1  Op.  tit.,  p.  292. 

1  "  It  is  involved  in  the  very  idea  of  a  developing  consciousness  such  as 
ours,  that  ...  as  an  intelligence,  it  presupposes  the  idea  of  the  whole." 
(Caird:  "Idealism  and  the  Theory  of  Knowledge,"  pp.  8-9.) 


1 84       PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

What,  when  I  think,  am  I  virtually  postulating  as  the 
perfect  success  of  thought?  What  unlimited  cognitive 
attainment  may  I  infer  from  the  very  limitations  which  I 
seek  to  escape?  Let  me  cite  two  contemporary  exponents 
of  the  doctrine.  " Truth,"  writes  Mr.  Joachim,  "was  the 
systematic  coherence  which  characterized  a  significant 
whole.  And  we  proceeded  to  identify  a  significant  whole 
with  '  an  organized  individual  experience,  self-fulfilling  and 
self -fulfilled.'  Now  there  can  be  one  and  only  one  such 
experience:  or  only  one  significant  whole,  the  significance 
of  which  is  self-contained  in  the  sense  required.  For  it  is 
absolute  self-fulfilment,  absolutely  self-contained  signifi- 
cance, that  is  postulated;  and  nothing  short  of  absolute 
individuality  —  nothing  short  of  the  completely  whole  ex- 
perience —  can  satisfy  this  postulate.  And  human  knowl- 
edge —  not  merely  my  knowledge  or  yours,  but  the  best 
and  fullest  knowledge  in  the  world  at  any  stage  of  its 
development  —  is  clearly  not  a  significant  whole  in  this 
ideally  complete  sense.  Hence  the  truth,  which  our  sketch 
described,  is  — from  the  point  of  mew  of  the  human  intelli- 
gence —  an  Ideal,  and  an  Ideal  which  can  never  as  such, 
or  in  its  completeness,  be  actual  as  human  experience."  l 

Or  compare  the  statement  of  Professor  Royce.  "In  the 
first  place,  the  reality  that  we  seek  to  know  has  always 
to  be  defined  as  that  which  either  is  or  would  be  present 
to  a  sort  of  experience  which  we  ideally  define  as  organized 
—  that  is,  a  united  and  transparently  reasonable  —  ex- 
perience. .  .  .  Passing  to  the  limit  in  this  direction,  we 
can  accordingly  say  that  by  the  absolute  reality  we  can 
only  mean  either  that  which  is  present  to  an  absolutely 
organized  experience  inclusive  of  all  possible  experience, 
or  that  which  would  be  presented  as  the  content  of  such 
an  experience  if  there  were  one."2  Elsewhere,  Professor 
Royce  describes  this  "absolutely  organized  experience" 
as  "an  individual  life,  present  as  a  whole,  totum  simul" 

1  Joachim,  The  Nature  of  Truth,   pp.  78-79. 
s  Royce,  The  Conception  of  God,  pp.  30,  31. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  185 

"This  life,"  he  continues,  "is  the  completed  will,  as  well  as 
the  completed  experience,  corresponding  to  the  will  and 
experience  of  any  one  finite  idea."  And  "to  be,  in  the  final 
sense,"  he  concludes,  "means  to  be  just  such  a  life,  com- 
plete, present  to  experience,  and  conclusive  of  the  search 
for  perfection  which  every  finite  idea  in  its  own  measure 
undertakes  whenever  it  seeks  for  any  object."  x 

Now  what  content  do  these  statements  enable  us  to 
attribute  to  the  cognitive  ideal?  Do  they  mean,  for 
example,  merely  that  it  is  "inclusive  of  all  possible  experi- 
ence," that  it  is  the  knowledge  of  everything"?  If  so,  then 
absolute  idealism  has  done  no  more  than  to  add  to  the  total 
reality,  whatever  it  be,  a  knower  that  envelopes  it.  And 
this  throws  no  light  on  the  nature  of  the  total  reality;  nor 
is  it  of  any  special  significance  that  there  should  be  such  a 
mere  spectator  of  things  as  they  are,  totum  sirmtl. 

Or  do  these  statements  mean  merely  that  such  a  knower 
of  everything  must  enjoy  a  "completed  will,"  or  perfect 
satisfaction,  that  is  unattainable  by  the  fallible  mind  of 
man?  If  so,  then  it  may  be  observed  that  the  mere  state 
of  complete  satisfaction  is  relative  and  indeterminate. 
Man  does  experience  perfect  satisfaction,  often  when  he 
might  better  be  troubled  by  a  "divine  unrest."  If  it  be 
objected  that  man's  satisfaction,  despite  its  inward  self- 
sufficiency,  is  nevertheless  imperfect,  then  this  must  be 
because  his  ideals  are  not  high  enough.  The  Absolute 
experiences  the  complete  satisfaction  of  the  highest  cog- 
nitive ideal.  But  what,  then,  is  the  highest  cognitive  ideal? 
We  can  now  no  longer  answer  in  terms  merely  of  satisfac- 
tion. It  may  be  that  the  highest  cognitive  ideal  is  the 
knowledge  of  everything,  in  which  case  the  Absolute  is  the 
being  that  is  perfectly  satisfied  to  know  everything.  But 
such  an  Absolute,  even  if  there  were  any  ground  for  assert- 
ing it,  would  be  otherwise  consistent  with  any  kind  of  a 
world  whatsoever. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  neither  of  these  versions  of  the  cog- 

1  The  World  and  the  Individual,  First  Series,  pp.  341-342. 


1 86        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

nitive  ideal  makes  any  use  of  the  absolutist  principle  proper. 
They  simply  employ  the  cardinal  principle  of  idealism  to 
add  to  the  world  as  it  stands  a  consciousness  that  shall 
support  it.  Since  we  must  postulate  a  totality,  and  since 
on  idealistic  grounds  things  cannot  be  without  being  known, 
it  follows  that  there  must  be  a  knowledge  to  correspond  to 
the  totality.  But  if  there  is  any  virtue  in  the  absolutist 
principle  itself,  it  must  be  possible  to  define  a  cognitive 
ideal  in  other  than  quantitative  terms,  not  a  knowing  of 
everything  merely,  but  ~&~perfect  knowing  of  everything. 
From  what  it  is  to  know  well,  it  must  be  possible  to  infer 
what  it  is  to  know  best.  And  that  the  Ideal  Experience  is 
a  maximum  in  this  sense  is  the  really  crucial  contention  of 
such  writers  as  Joachim  and  Royce.  I  have  considered  other 
alternatives  in  order  to  clear  this  contention  from  confusion. 

Mr.  Joachim's  Ideal  Experience  is  "completely  self- 
coherent,"  and  Professor  Royce's  "absolutely  organized."  l 
'Coherence*  and  'organization'  are  not  essentially  differ- 
ent; and  they  are  equivalent  to  the  Kantian  notion  of 
'synthetic  unity.'  All  three  express  the  same  idea  that 
is  expressed  outside  the  idealistic  school,  by  the  word 
'system.'  The  question  now  arises  as  to  whether  this 
conception  defines  a  maximum.  Does  it  mean  anything 
to  speak  of  absolute  coherence,  organization,  or  system? 

That  these  expressions  seem  to  mean  something  is  due, 
I  think,  to  the  loose  quantitative  suggestions  of  the  terms 
employed.  Thus  it  is  fair  to  say  that  a  living  organism  is 
more  coherent  than  a  sand-bank,  in  that  there  is  a  greater 
cross-reference  of  parts  and  inter-dependence  of  function. 
One  gets  more  light  on  each  element  from  its  relations  to  all 
the  other  elements,  in  the  former  case,  than  in  the  latter. 
Similarly,  it  is  possible  to  suppose  an  assemblage  even 
more  coherent  than  the  living  organism.  But  between 
this  and  the  supposition  of  an  absolutely  coherent  unity, 
there  is  an  immeasurable  gulf.  A  coherent  whole  must 
contain  both  relation,  connection,  and  unity,  and  also 

1  Joachim:   op.  cit.,  p.  114;   Royce:   Conception  of  God,  p.  31. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  187 

an  individuality  and  plurality  of  parts.  And  there  is 
nothing  in  the  principle  of  coherence  itself  which  defines 
•what  proportion  of  unity  and  plurality  shall  constitute  the 
ideal  coherence.  Thus  to  insist  that  the  universe  must, 
on  general  logical  grounds,  be  conceived  as  a  coherent 
whole,  is  not  really  significant,  even  as  repects  the  unity 
of  the  world.  Suppose  it  to  be  granted  that  all  things  must 
be  related.  There  still  remains  the  question:  How  far  do 
these  all-ramifying  relations  go  toward  defining  the  terms 
so  related?  That  the  terms  cannot  be  wholly  defined  by 
these  relations  is  obvious;  nor  is  there  any  definite  degree  of 
significance  that  must  be  attached  to  them  in  order  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  bare  relational  unity.  Grant  that  the  world 
is  some  sort  of  unity  in  variety,  of  permanence  in  change, 
and  the  alternatives  still  range  from  a  vital  unity  to  a 
loose  aggregate. 

It  might,  I  think,  readily  be  proved  that  this  whole 
procedure  involves  confusion  and  error.  It  is  impossible 
in  any  given  case  of  knowledge  to  say:  "By  this  I  know, 
by  that  I  am  prevented  from  knowing;  therefore  if  that 
were  wholly  replaced  by  this,  I  should  know  without  limit." 
There  is  no  negative  element  in  knowledge,  such  as  plural- 
ity, unrelatedness,  incoherence,  or  meaninglessness.  There 
is  a  negative  cognitive  element  only  in  so  far  as  I  do  not 
know,  that  is,  am  confused  or  unaware.  The  conditions 
of  knowledge  are  fully  satisfied  when  I  know  positively 
and  clearly.  And  from  this  it  is  possible  to  infer  only  that 
things  are  precisely  and  determinately  what  they  are  — 
a  conclusion  which  does  not  in  the  least  support  either 
absolutism  or  idealism. 

Thus  absolutism  is  neither  more  significant  nor  more 
valid  for  its  alliance  with  idealism.  The  Absolute  is  now, 
as  formerly,  no  more  than  logic  makes  it  —  which  is  much 
too  little  to  satisfy  the  metaphysical  claims  which  are 
urged  in  its  behalf.  An  absolute  defined  in  terms  of  the 
system  or  unity  of  the  logical  categories  is  doubtless  all- 
general,  but  too  formal  or  abstract  to  afford  a  sufficient 


1 88        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

explanation  of  anything.  Nor  does  logic  itself  yield  even 
a  definite  ideal  which  may  be  postulated,  even  though  it 
remain  problematic. 

§  9.  A  complete  and  rounded  idealism  contains  two 

principles,  the  priority  of  consciousness,  and  the  validity  of 

the  speculative  ideal.    Its  central  conception 

Summary  of        .  ^   .  .  .  .  .  .     r 

idealism.  is  the  Absolute  Spirit;  which,  as  spirit,  con- 
ideaUsmand  ditions  the  being  of  its  objects;  and,  as  abso- 
lute, constitutes  the  superlative  fulfilment  of 
every  human  aspiration.  Waiving  the  question  of  its 
proof,  with  which  we  have  thus  far  been  mainly  occupied, 
—  let  us  in  conclusion  summarize  its  significance  as  a 
philosophy  of  life  and  of  religion.1 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  idealism  is  not 
at  heart  sympathetic  with  the  modern  democratic  con- 
ception of  civilization.  Idealism  is,  it  is  true,  an  idealizing 
philosophy.  But  the  ideal  which  this  philosophy  glorifies 
is  not  the  gradual  amelioration  of  life  through  the  human 
conquest  of  nature;  but  rather  the  perfection  that  was 
from  the  beginning  and  is  forever  more.  The  faith  which 
is  most  characteristic  of  today,  is  the  faith  in  what  an 
enlightened  and  solidified  mankind  may  achieve,  despite 
the  real  resistance  and  incompetence  which  retard  it.2 
The  faith  which  is  most  characteristic  of  idealism,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  the  faith  that  all  things  work  together  for 
the  glory  of  an  eternal  spiritual  life,  despite  appearances. 

It  may  seem  paradoxical  to  charge  idealism  with  being 
excessively  individualistic.  And  yet  this  has  been  the  case 
with  absolutist  philosophies  from  the  beginning.  For  they 
emphasize  the  relation  between  the  individual  life  and  the 
universal  life,  and  so  tend  to  slight  society.  Both  Plato 
and  Spinoza,  in  so  far  as  they  have  affected  the  fundamental 
motives  of  life,  have  tended  to  withdraw  men  from  social 
relations,  and  unite  them  directly,  through  speculation 

1  What  follows  may  be  compared  with  a  similar  summary  of  pragma- 
tism; cf.  Ch.  XI,  §  7- 
*  See  above,  p.  5. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  189 

and  contemplation,  with  God.  Idealism  emphasizes,  it  is 
true,  the  indispensableness  of  social  relations  to  a  developed 
self-consciousness;  but  the  socialized  self  is  only  a  step 
toward  the  realization  of  that  absolute  self  in  which  a  man 
is  encouraged  to  find  his  true  sphere  and  only  genuine 
reality.1  And  as  idealism  tends  to  be  out  of  sympathy 
with  the  current  notion  of  human  society  as  the  working 
force  of  the  spiritual  life,  so  it  tends  to  discredit  the  com- 
plementary notion  of  progress,  as  the  measure  of  work 
done.  Idealism  does,  it  is  true,  emphasize  historical  de- 
velopment, but  of  the  sort  in  which  the  value  attaches  to 
the  progress  itself  rather  than  to  the  result;  and  in  which 
the  merit  of  historical  achievement  is  apparent  rather  than 
real.  "The  consummation  of  the  infinite  End,"  says  Hegel, 
"consists  merely  in  removing  the  illusion  which  makes 
it  seem  yet  unaccomplished.  The  Good,  the  absolutely 
Good,  is  eternally  accomplishing  itself  in  the  world;  and 
the  result  is  that  it  needs  not  wait  upon  us,  but  is  already 
by  implication,  as  well  as  in  full  actuality,  accomplished."2 
§  10.  In  the  course  of  his  well-known  indictment  of 
idealism,  Mr.  Hobhouse  writes  as  follows:  "Indeed,  it  is 
<L  TT  .  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  the  effect  of 

The  Umversa-  ..    J  ..     /  t    «          » 

listic  or  Level-    idealism  on  the  world  in  general  has  been 
ing  Tendency     mainly  to  sap  intellectual  and  moral  sincerity, 

m  Idealism  '  ^    .  .  .  J ' 

to  excuse  men  in  their  consciences  for  profess- 
ing beliefs  which  on  the  meaning  ordinarily  attached  to 
them  they  do  not  hold,  to  soften  the  edges  of  all  hard 
contrasts  between  right  and  wrong,  truth  and  falsity,  to 
throw  a  gloss  over  stupidity,  and  prejudice,  and  caste, 

1CL  Royce:  Studies  of  Good  and  Evil,  "Self-consciousness,  Social  Con- 
sciousness and  Nature."  There  is  an  idealistic  school  which  has  attempted 
to  deny  this;  cf.  Personal  Idealism,  edited  by  H.  Sturt;  and  G.  H. 
Howison:  Evolution  and  Idealism,  That  this  position  is  on  strict 
idealist  grounds  untenable,  is,  I  think,  proved  by  Professor  Royce's  suc- 
cessful refutation  of  it;  cf.  the  discussion  between  Professor  Royce  and  Pro- 
fessor Howison  in  Royce:  Conception  of  God.  A  personal  idealism  or 
"humanism"  based  on  pragmatist  grounds,  is  another  matter;  cf.  below, 
pp.  261  ff. 

*  Encyclopadie,  §  212,  trans,  by  W.  Wallace,  Logic  of  Hegel,  pp.  351-352. 


1 90       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

and  tradition,  to  weaken  the  bases  of  reason,  and  disincline 
men  to  the  searching  analysis  of  their  habitual  ways  of 
thinking."  l 

In  reply,  Professor  Henry  Jones  puts  his  finger,  I  think, 
on  the  real  point  of  the  accusation.  "In  refusing  to  admit 
differences  which  are  absolute,  in  reducing  all  differences 
into  relative  differences,  or  differences  within  or  of  a  unity, 
Idealism  must  seem  to  the  ordinary  critic,  with  his  one- 
sided way  of  thought,  to  render  them  of  no  account." 
The  critic  "will  have  every  question  answered  by  a  down- 
right 'Yes'  or  'No.'  "  2  He  objects,  in  other  words,  to  the 
universalistic  or  leveling  tendency  in  idealism.  He  claims 
that  through  his  assertion  that  things  find  their  real 
meaning  only  in  the  unity  of  all  things,  the  idealist 
virtually  overrules  the  flat  differences  and  uncompromis- 
ing oppositions  that  guide  the  empirical  and  practical 
intelligence. 

And  this  accusation  is,  I  think,  substantially  just. 
Idealism  does  not,  it  is  true,  attribute  equal  significance  to 
all  things;  but  it  does  attribute  necessary  significance  to 
all  things.  It  is  essentially  the  all-saving  philosophy,  as 
opposed  to  the  philosophy  of  extermination.  It  encour- 
ages the  supposition  that  a  profounder  insight  would  rein- 
state what  ordinary  discrimination  rejects  out  of  hand. 
It  rises  above  the  plane  of  distinctions,  and  invites 
attention  to  the  broad  synthetic  features  of  the  world. 
This  universalistic  tendency  in  idealism  accounts,  I  think, 
for  the  significant  fact  that  idealism  has  contributed 
little  or  nothing  to  the  solution  of  special  problems,  such 
as  the  relation  of  mind  and  body;  and  for  its  comparative 
lack  of  interest  in  special  empirical  discoveries,  such,  for 
example,  as  those  of  modern  psychology.  But  it  also 
accounts  for  the  much  more  significant  fact  that  idealism 

x  L.  T.  Hobhouse:  Democracy  and  Reaction,  pp.  78-79.  For  reference 
and  comment,  cf.  John  Morley:  Miscellanies,  Fourth  Series,  pp.  261,  sq.; 
James:  A  Pluralistic  Universe,  II;  and  Henry  Jones:  The  Working  Faith 
of  the  Social  Reformer,  Ch.  VII,  VIII. 

1  Henry  Jones:  op.  cit.,  pp.  218,  208. 


ABSOLUTE   IDEALISM  Ipl 

does  not  really  touch  those  special  issues  with  which  religion 
is  concerned. 

Thus,  the  religious  belief  in  immortality  arises  from  a 
solicitude  that  is  specific  and  unmistakable.  Its  root  is 
the  dread  of  annihilation,  of  the  severance  of  ties  and  the 
cessation  of  activities  that  are  presently  good.  Immor- 
tality is  a  prerogative  by  virtue  of  which  man  hopes  that 
he  may  continue  thus  to  live,  after  that  natural-historical 
event  called  death.  Idealism  assures  a  man  that  his  life, 
whether  long  or  short,  is  a  "unique  embodiment  of  pur- 
pose." l  By  virtue  of  the  world-sustaining  thought  or 
will,  he  belongs  to  a  timeless  unity,  within  which  he  has  a 
determinate  relation  to  all  other  things!  It  is  doubtful 
if  such  doctrines  would  be  recognized  as  even  remotely 
relevant  to  the  religious  issue,  were  they  not  expressed  in 
such  phrases  as  "the  eternal  life."  In  any  case,  after  the 
idealist  has  offered  his  consolation,  the  real  object  of  hope 
and  fear  —  man's  chance  of  life  after  death  remains  in  as 
great  darkness  as  before. 

Similarly,  the  religious  belief  in  God  relates  to  specific 
good  things  of  which  God  is  the  guarantee.  But  for  ideal- 
ism, God  is  "the  unity  and  the  spiritual  purpose  of  the 
world,"  where  "spiritual  purpose"  is  above  the  petty  dif- 
ferences and  blind  prejudices  of  this  mundane  life.  God 
is  that  "richer,  purer,  completer  selfhood,"  in  which  the 
temporal  illusion  is  dispelled,  and  which  when  a  man 
attains  it  by  a  "maximizing  of  life,"  "elevates  his  disposi- 
tion beyond  immediate  or  finite  interests."  2 

As  a  version  of  God,  such  a  philosophy  deserves  the 
comment  which  it  has  recently  received  from  a  theologian. 
"As  one  contemplates  the  idea  of  the  timeless  Absolute 
in  its  strict  meaning — and  especially  as  one  regards  it  from 

1  Royce:  The  Conception  of  Immortality,  p.  49.  Cf.  Munsterberg:  The 
Eternal  Life,  passim.  For  the  admission  that  the  religious  implications  of 
idealism  are  "almost  entirely  negative,"  cf.  McTaggart:  Some  Dogmas 
of  Religion,  p.  291. 

1  H.  Jones:  Idealism  as  a  Practical  Creed,  p.  296;  R.  M.  Wenley: 
Modern  Thought  and  the  Crisis  in  Belief,  pp.  304,  308,  310. 


192        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

the  standpoint  of  the  ethical  life  with  its  constant  activity 
in  the  production  of  spiritual  goods  —  it  loses  all  power  to 
call  forth  our  worship,  and  appears  like  a  huge  spherical 
aquarium  encompassing  within  itself  motion  and  life,  but 
as  a  whole  rigid,  glassy,  and  motionless.  Surely  the  time- 
less Absolute  is  not  the  supreme  solver  of  human  problems, 
nor  the  God  to  whose  worship  we  should  summon  the 
aspiring  and  struggling  sons  of  men."  l 

For  the  religious  consciousness,  if  we  except  alone  the 
state  of  mystical  contemplation,  God  is  the  will  through 
which  the  universe  shall  in  the  end  prefer  happiness  to 
misery,  good  to  evil,  life  to  death  —  and  thus  carry  through 
to  some  eventual  triumph  the  adventure  in  which  man  is 
presently  engaged.  Religious  hope  and  fear,  like  all  hope 
and  fear,  are  discriminating.  They  issue  from  the  love 
of  some  things  and  the  dread  of  other  things.  The  believer 
looks  to  God  for  a  boon,  knowing  well  the  sweet  from  the 
bitter.  Hence  the  assurance  that  things  are  one,  eternal, 
both  infinitely  rich  and  also  orderly  and  coherent,  —  even 
the  assurance  that  as  such  they  are  thought  or  willed, 
leaves  him  unmoved.  He  must  know  incomparably  more 
before,  in  his  religious  perplexity,  he  knows  anything. 

§  ii.   Conceding  the  utmost  claims  of  its  critics,  idealism 

is  to  be  credited  with  two   substantial  contributions  to 

contemporary  thought,  the  proof  of  the  funda- 

The  Virtue  and  ,  F     ,.,1. 

the  Extrava-  mental  validity  of  logic,  and  of  the  mdepen- 
ganceof  dent  rights  of  moral  science.  Through  its 

Idealism  .  ,  _    ,  ,        .  ,      ,. 

insistent  promulgation  of  these  truths,  idealism 
has  won  a  fair  and  a  decisive  victory  over  naturalism. 
Indeed,  during  the  last  century,  idealism  has  almost  alone 
defended  the  citadel  of  religious  philosophy  from  this  most 
powerful  and  vicious  adversary. 

And  the  failure  of  idealism  is  very  closely  related  to  its 
success.  The  source  of  its  failure  lies  in  the  extravagance 
of  the  claims  which  it  has  made  for  those  branches  of 
knowledge  which  it  has  successfully  vindicated.  For 

1  E.  W.  Lyman:  Theology  and  Human  Problems,  p.  ai. 


ABSOLUTE    IDEALISM  193 

idealism  has  sought  to  prove  not  only  the  universality  but 
also  the  spirituality  of  logic;  it  has  sought  to  prove  not 
only  the  independence  of  moral  science,  but  its  logical  or 
universal  character  as  well.  And  the  result  has  been  to 
confuse  logic,  and  to  formalize  life.  The  extreme  claims 
of  religious  faith  cannot  be  asserted  without  a  contradic- 
tion of  the  very  motive  from  which  faith  springs.  Spirit 
so  generalized  as  to  coincide  with  the  totality  of  things 
has  lost  its  savor.  Such  an  utter  consummation  of  hope 
is  possible  only  by  the  abandonment  of  those  particular 
values  for  which  hope  was  first  entertained.  One  who 
demands  the  possession  of  the  world  must  be  satisfied 
with  the  grim  and  ironical  religion  of  last  resort:  the 
promise  that  the  world  shall  be  his  who  asks  of  it  only 
that  it  shall  be  itself.  This  —  the  religion  of  renunciation 
—  is  compatible  with  any  philosophy,  and  most  of  all 
with  those  philosophies  which  deny  men's  first  hopes. 
And  if  one  is  to  have  a  religion  of  renunciation,  it  is  better 
that  the  lesson  of  disillusionment  should  be  taught  with- 
out the  creation  of  fresh  illusions.  If  the  first  hopes  are 
to  be  abandoned,  it  is  better  also  to  abandon  the  language 
in  which  they  are  traditionally  expressed;  or  openly  to 
profess  that  such  language  is  employed  only  in  a  poetic 
and  devotional  sense,  to  make  men  brave  and  without 
complaint  in  a  merciless  environment. 

But  renunciation  is  not  the  only  religious  implication  of 
philosophy.  There  is  good  ground  for  hope,  provided 
only  that  hope  does  not  defeat  itself  through  the  very 
extravagance  of  its  claims;  through  denying  the  very  fears 
that  gave  it  birth,  and  seeking  to  make  peace  while  the 
enemy  is  still  in  arms. 


PART  IV 

PRAGMATISM 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  PRAGMATIC  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

§  i.  IT  is  characteristic  of  pragmatism  that  it  does  not 
readily  lend  itself  to  summary  definition.  It  can  neither 
The  General  ke  identified  with  a  fixed  habit  of  mind,  as 
Meaning  of  naturalism  can  be  identified  with  the  scientific 
ragmatism  ha^t  of  mind,  nor  can  it  be  reduced  to  a  single 
cardinal  principle,  as  can  idealism.  We  are  as  yet  too 
much  in  the  midst  of  it  to  discern  its  general  contour; 
indeed  it  is  not  so  much  a  systematic  doctrine  as  a  criti- 
cism and  a  method.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not  impossible,  I 
think,  to  give  a  preliminary  characterization  of  it  that 
shall  be  roughly  true,  and  shall  serve  as  a  guide  to  the 
study  of  its  diverse  aspects.  Pragmatism  means,  in  the 
broadest  sense,  the  acceptance  of  the  categories  of  life  as 
fundamental.  It  is  the  bio-centric  philosophy.  And  it 
must  be  added  at  once  that  the  pragmatist  means  by 
'life,'  not  the  imaginary  or  ideal  life  of  any  hypothetical 
being,  not  the  "eternal"  life  or  the  "absolute"  life;  but 
the  temporal,  operative  life  of  animals  and  men,  the  life 
of  instinct  and  desire,  of  adaptation  and  environment,  of 
civilization  and  progress. 

Although  the  pragmatic  movement  is  new,  pragmatism 
is,  as  James  acknowledges,  "an  old  way  of  thinking."  It 
is  dangerous,  however,  to  identify  contemporary  pragma- 
tism too  closely  with  any  of  the  earlier  doctrines  that 
resemble  it.  Thus  the  whole  'experimentalist'  tendency 
in  English  science  and  philosophy  may  be  said  to  have 
anticipated  the  pragmatist  theory  that  truth  is  achieved 
by  the  trying  of  hypotheses.  And  Hume  suggested  at  the 
close  of  his  Treatise  that  we  must  be  satisfied  in  the  end 
with  a  belief  that  is  suited  to  action.1  But  these  antici- 

1  Cf.  above,  p.  139. 
197 


198        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

pations  of  pragmatism  are  largely  accidental,  and  more 
negative  than  constructive. 

On  the  other  hand,  Kant,  and  the  Fichtean  idealists  after 
him,  maintained  "the  primacy  of  the  practical  reason." 
Pragmatism  is  doubtless  related  to  this  and  other  tradi- 
tional forms  of  voluntarism.  But  from  the  idealistic  form 
of  voluntarism,  at  least,  pragmatism  is  sharply  distin- 
-guished  by  its  naturalistic  and  empirical  leanings.  Prag- 
matism does,  it  is  true,  depart  from  naturalism  in  so  far 
as  this  assigns  the  fundamental  place  to  the  mechanical 
categories.  Pragmatism  would  insist  on  the  priority  of 
biology  to  physics;  or  at  least  upon  the  right  of  biology, 
together  with  the  moral  and  social  sciences,  to  regard  the 
teleological  method  as  independently  valid.  For  if  it  can 
be  argued  that  the  processes  of  life  may  be  described  as 
quantities  of  mechanical  force  or  energy,  it  can  equally 
well  be  argued  that  energy  and  force  themselves  are  instru- 
ments which  serve  the  uses  of  life.  But  while  pragmatism 
is  opposed  to  a  fundamental  or  universal  mechanism,  it 
has  much  in  common  with  naturalism.  It  may  even  in  a 
sense  be  called  '  naturalistic.'  For  it  identifies  reality  with 
"this  world,"  with  the  sort  of  thing  that  is  going  on  here 
and  now;  and  regards  perception  as  the  most  reliable 
means  of  knowledge.1 

The  polemic  of  pragmatism  is  mainly  directed,  not  against 
naturalism,  but  against  idealism ;  and  not  against  the  cardi- 
nal or  subjectivistic  principle  in  idealism,  but  against 
idealism  as  the  contemporary  form  of  absolutism.  The 
perfect  antithesis  to  pragmatism  is  Spinoza,  and  it  is  the 
perpetuation  of  Spinozism  in  objective  and  absolute  idealism 
that  is  the  real  object  of  the  pragmatist  attack.  Abso- 
lutism is  other-worldly,  contrary  to  appearances;  pragma- 
tism mundane,  empirical.  Absolutism  is  mathematical 
and  dialectical  in  method,  establishing  ultimate  truths 
with  demonstrable  certainty;  pragmatism  is  suspicious  of 
all  short-cut  arguments,  and  holds  philosophy  to  be  no 
1  See  below,  pp.  363-366. 


PRAGMATIC  THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          199 

exception  to  the  rule  that  all  hypotheses  are  answerable  to 
experience.  Absolutism  is  monistic,  deterministic,  quiet- 
istic;  pragmatism  is  pluralistic,  indeterministic,  melioris- 
tic.  That  which  absolutism  holds  to  be  most  significant, 
namely,  the  logical  unity  of  the  world,  is  for  pragmatism  a 
negligible  abstraction.  That  which  for  absolutism  is  mere 
appearance  —  the  world  of  space  and  time,  the  interaction 
of  man  and  nature,  and  of  man  and  man,  is  for  pragmatism 
the  quintessence  of  reality.  The  one  is  the  philosophy  of 
eternity,  the  other  the  philosophy  of  time. 

§  2.  Pragmatism    like   all    contemporary   philosophies 

is  first  of  all  a  theory  of  knowledge.     It  is  in  the  applica- 

.    tion  of  the  vitalistic  or  bio-centric  method  to 

The  Pragmatist  .  .     ,  .,  ^  , 

Conception  of  knowledge  that  all  pragmatists  are  agreed, 
the  Theory  ^e  may  hope  to  discover  here  a  body  of  com- 

of  Knowledge  J         r     .         ,      ..  e  ,  .  ,         , 

mon    pragmatic    doctrine    from    which    the 
various  pragmatisms  diverge. 

The  pragmatist  has  a  characteristic  way  of  setting  the 
problem.  In  the  first  place,  he  means  by  knowledge  a 
process,  and  not  merely  a  product.  The  term  knowledge 
is  often  used  to  mean  what  is  known,  in  other  words,  com- 
pleted knowledge,  or  science;  and  epistemology  has  been 
taken  to  mean  the  analysis  of  such  completed  knowledge 
with  a  view  to  discovering  its  universal  principles  or  its 
underlying  ground.1  With  pragmatists,  however,  knowl- 
edge means  knowing:  a  complex  event,  involving  an  indi- 
vidual knower,  a  something  to  be  known,  certain  means  of 
knowing  it,  and  then,  finally,  the  cognitive  achievement 
or  failure.  Critics  of  pragmatism  have  attempted  to  dis- 
miss this  method  of  studying  knowledge  by  calling  it 
'psychological/  rather  than  'logical.'  It  is  certainly  not 
exclusively  logical,  because  it  takes  into  account  the  cir- 
cumstances and  agencies  of  knowledge,  and  not  merely  its 
grounds.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  psychological 
in  any  limited  or  disparaging  sense,  because  it  seeks  to 

1  This  is  on  the  whole  the  idealistic  conception  of  'the  categories.' 
Cf.  above,  pp.  139-142. 


200        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

distinguish  the  cases  of  true  knowledge  from  the  cases 
of  false  knowledge.  In  short,  it  is  both  psychological 
and  logical;  and  for  the  reason  that  both  psychological  and 
logical  factors  enter  into  that  particular  complex  which  we 
call  knowing. 

Regarding  the  whole  of  the  concrete  process  of  knowing, 
pragmatism  finds  that  its  form  is  practical.  In  its  native 
habitat,  where  the  pragma tist  seeks  it  out  and  observes  it, 
knowing  is  a  phase  of  life,  of  action  in  an  environment. 
This  holds  equally  of  the  kind  of  knowledge  that  is  ordi- 
narily called  'practical/  and  the  kind  that  is  ordinarily 
called  'theoretical.'  Whether  it  be  the  execution  of  a 
policy,  the  calculation  of  the  price  of  a  commodity,  the 
investigation  of  the  properties  of  non-Euclidean  space, 
or  the  demonstration  of  the  attributes  of  God,  knowing  is 
always  an  enterprise,  projected  on  a  particular  occasion, 
tried  with  particular  means,  attended  with  hope  or  fear, 
and  concluded  with  success  or  failure.  This  is  the  subject- 
matter  with  which  the  pragmatist  theory  of  knowledge 
primarily  deals.  And  there  are  two  problems  which  the 
pragmatist  makes  both  prominent  and  fundamental:  first, 
what  is  the  r61e  of  ideas  in  knowledge?  second,  what  is 
the  difference  between  a  true  idea  and  a  false  idea? 

§  3.  To  understand  the  pragmatist  theory  of  the  r61e  of 
ideas  hi  knowledge,  it  is  necessary  to  insist  on  the  interpre- 
The  R&ie  of  tation  of  knowledge  which  has  just  been  given, 
ideas  in  The  theory  applies  only  in  the  cases  where 

the  full  panoply  of  knowledge  is  present.  And 
in  particular  there  must  be  a  having  of  ideas  about  some- 
thing, where  the  ideas  and  the  thing  are  in  some  sense 
different.  In  other  words,  we  have  here  to  do  exclusively 
with  reflective  knowledge,  what  James  calls  "knowledge 
about"  as  distinguished  from  "knowledge  of  acquaintance." 
Professor  Dewey  would  not  regard  the  latter  as  knowledge 
at  all,  but  would  insist  upon  "an  element  of  mediation,  that 
is,  of  art,  in  all  knowledge."  *  While  it  will  be  necessary 

1  John  Dewey:  Influence  of  Darwin  on  Philosophy,  and  other  Essays,  p.  80. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          201 

presently  to  inquire  into  these  implied  reservations,  we 
shall  do  well  for  the  present  to  exclude  them.  Just  what, 
then,  is  meant  by  an  'idea/  in  the  sense  in  what  we  are  said 
to  have  ideas  about  things? 

The  pragmatist  answers,  first,  that  an  idea  is  whatever 
exercises  the  function  of  'meaning.'  In  other  words,  there 
is  no  peculiar  quality  attaching  to  an  idea  as  such  —  but 
only  an  office.1  Anything  may  be  an  idea,  provided  you 
mean  with  it;  just  as  anything  may  be  a  weapon,  pro- 
vided you  do  injury  with  it.  The  commonest  instance  of 
an  idea  is  probably  a  verbal  image,  and  there  is  no  visible 
or  audible  form  that  may  not  serve  as  a  word.2  An  idea 
is,  in  short,  what  an  idea  does. 

But  what  is  this  function  of '  meaning,'  which  defines  an 
idea?  The  pragmatist  answers  that  meaning  is  essentially 
prospective,  that  it  is  a  plan  of  action  terminating  in  the 
thing  meant.  More  specifically,  an  idea  means  a  thing 
when  it  projects  a  series  of  acts  that  would,  if  carried  out, 
bring  that  thing  into  the  same  immediacy  which  the  idea 
itself  already  enjoys.3  Thus  when  I  utter  the  word  "  cold," 
this  verbal  sound  is  so  connected  with  a  temperature  quality 
that  were  I  to  follow  up  the  connection,  I  would  sense 
coldness.  I  may  be  said  to  have  such  a  plan  or  incipient 
train  of  action  without  actually  executing  it  —  just  as  a 
traveller  may  be  said  to  have  a  destination  even  though 
circumstances  should  prevent  his  arriving  at  it.  An  idea 
is  like  a  railway  ticket  which  will  take  you  to  a  distant 
place,  though  you  should  never  make  the  journey,  or  like 
a  bank-note  which  has  a  cash-value  though  you  should 
never  redeem  it.  And  like  bank-notes,  ideas  are  negotiable; 
they  may  be  themselves  used  in  place  of  currency  for  pur- 
poses of  reasoning  or  communication.  The  virtue  of  ideas 
thus  lies  primarily  in  their  being  practical  substitutes  for 
immediacy* 

1  James:   Meaning  of  Truth,  pp.  30-31. 
*  Indeed  the  idea  need  not  perhaps  be  an  image  at  all. 
1  James:  op.  cit.,  pp.  43~5°;  Dewey:  op.  cit.,  p.  90. 
4  James:  op.  cit.,  p.  no. 


202        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

But  in  order  fully  to  grasp  the  pragmatist  theory  of  the 
function  of  ideas  we  must  inquire  concerning  their  place  in 
life  at  large.  We  have  found  that  an  idea  is  an  instrument 
of  meaning,  that  its  function  is  to  mean  something  other 
than  itself.  But  what  is  the  use  of  meaning,  what  is  the 
function  of  the  ideational  process  itself?  The  answer  is 
apparent  when  it  is  observed  that  immediacy  is  not  suffi- 
cient for  purposes  of  action. 

For  one  thing,  only  a  part  of  the  presented  field  of 
experience  is  pertinent  to  a  particular  action.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  construe  each  situation;  that  is,  to  select  from  its 
wealth  of  detail  that  aspect  which  relates  to  the  matter  in 
hand.  Ideas  are  in  this  sense  'modes  of  conceiving'  the 
given,  a  '  taking  it  to  be '  this  or  that.  Discursive  thought 
interrupts  'the  continuity  of  habit'  when  a  doubtful  or 
ambiguous  situation  presents  itself,  which  the  organism 
has  no  ready-made  way  of  meeting.  In  other  words,  when 
one  doesn't  know  what  to  do  about  it,  one  thinks  about  it. 
Such  an  occasion  constitutes  one  of  those  "particular 
crises  in  the  growth  of  experience"  to  which,  according  to 
Dewey,  thought  is  always  relative.  On  such  an  occasion 
the  idea  is  the  "instrument  of  reconstruction,"  which 
delivers  the  agent  from  his  predicament.  The  situation 
being  reconstrued,  life  runs  smoothly  again  on  the  new  basis.1 
Thus  to  ideate  experience,  to  think  it,  is  to  represent  it  in 
some  special  and  suitable  light. 

Again,  the  ideational  process  makes  it  possible  to  act 
on  the  remote  environment,  on  things  that  lie  beyond  the 
range  of  the  individual's  sensibilities.  Ideal  substitutes 
for  these  things,  ideas  that  mean  them,  may  serve  as  well; 
so  that  man  may  be  said  to  live  actively  not  only  in  the 
world  he  perceives,  but  in  the  limitlessly  extended  world  he 
knows  about.  And  finally,  by  means  of  ideas  it  is  possible 
to  unite  range  with  compactness.  Thus  the  formulas  of 
science  put  man  in  touch  with  the  immense  expanse 

1  Dewey:  Studies  in  Logic,  p.  20;  A.  W.  Moore:  Existence,  Meaning, 
and  Reality  (Chicago  Decennial  Publications),  p.  16. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          203 

of  nature,  without  overwhelming  and  bewildering  him, 
because  they  represent  it  through  its  constant  features. 
Their  bulk  is  as  small  as  their  meaning  is  great. 

This,  then,  is  the  pragmatist  theory  of  the  instrumental 
function  of  ideas.  The  theory  puts  a  double  emphasis 
on  the  pragmatic  character  of  thought.  An  idea  is  defined 
pragmatically,  as  a  virtual  access  to  an  immediate  experi- 
ence of  that  which  it  means.  And  the  whole  process  of 
ideation  is  again  denned  pragmatically,  as  the  means  of 
acting  on  the  environment. 

§  4.  When  we  turn  to  the  pragmatist  theory  of  truth, 
which  in  English-speaking  countries  is  regarded  as  pragma- 
The  Meaning  tism's  most  notable  contribution  to  philosophy, 
of  Truth  we  fr^  ft  again  necessary  to  set  the  problem 

with  some  care.  I  have  placed  this  theory  second  in  order 
of  exposition  because  it  is  properly  to  be  regarded  as  the 
sequel  to  the  instrumental  theory  of  ideas. 

In  the  first  place,  the  pragmatist  is  talking  about  the 
kind  of  truth  that  is  humanly  attainable,  lying  within  the 
individual  thought  process  itself.  He  not  improperly 
insists  that  if  truth  is  to  be  conceived  in  hypothetical  or 
ideal  terms,  then  this  conception  itself  must  be  true  for  the 
thinker  who  constructs  or  defines  it.  Thus  if  one  asserted 
that  truth  attaches  only  to  the  thinking  of  an  absolute 
knower  or  to  an  absolute  system  of  thought,  then  this 
assertion  itself  would  be  in  some  sense  true  for  the  finite 
philosopher  who  maintained  it.  And  it  is  this  latter  sense 
of  the  term  with  which  pragmatism  has  to  do  —  not  the 
truth  of  God's  knowledge,  but  the  truth  of  my  knowledge 
of  God.1 

In  the  second  place,  truth  for  the  pragmatist  is  invariably 
an  adjective  of  ideas;  and  by  ideas  he  means  not  Platonic 
essences,  but  the  modes  of  an  individual's  thinking.  When 
are  ideas,  in  this  sense,  true?  What  is  the  nature  of  know- 
ing truly?  Like  all  forms  of  practice,  thinking,  believ- 
ing, or  the  forming  of  ideas  is  essentially  fallible.  There 
1  CL  below,  pp.  242-243. 


204        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

is  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way.  What  on  any  given 
occasion  distinguishes  the  right  way  of  thinking  from  the 
wrong  way?  When  is  an  idea  'a  good  idea/  and  when 
is  it  a  'bad'  one?  It  is  evident  that  you  have  not  solved  the 
problem  of  truth  in  the  pragmatist  sense  until  you  have  also 
solved  the  problem  of  error.  For  pragmatism,  in  short, 
truth  does  not  mean  the  same  thing  as  reality  or  existence, 
but  is  a  property,  exclusively,  of  that  instance  of  existence 
which  we  call  'idea'  or  'belief,'  in  its  relation  to  that  second 
instance  of  reality  or  existence  which  we  call  'object' 
of  the  first.  Truth  is  a  property  of  ideas  as  these  arise 
amid  the  actual  processes  of  human  thinking;  it  is  some- 
thing which  happens  to  ideas  in  the  course  of  their  natural 
history.  And  since  ideas  have  a  function,  which  they  may 
or  may  not  fulfil,  truth  is  one  of  two  opposite  fortunes 
which  may  befall  ideas,  the  other  being  error. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  frame  the  pragmatist  defini- 
tion of  a  true  idea.  An  idea  is  true  when  it  works;  that  is, 
when  it  is  successful,  when  it  fulfils  its  function,  or  performs 
what  is  demanded  of  it.  An  idea  is  essentially  for  some- 
thing; and  when  it  does  what  it  is  for,  it  is  the  'right'  or 
the  'true'  idea. 

Lest  this  should  seem  more  obvious  than  important,  it 
should  be  contrasted  with  the  view  that  has  been  commonly 
held  both  by  philosophers  and  common  sense.  According 
to  that  view  the  truth  of  ideas  lay  in  their  resemblance 
to  their  objects.  Ideas  were  regarded  as  copies,  pictures, 
replicas,  true  in  proportion  to  their  likeness.  Pragmatism, 
on  the  contrary,  insists  that  a  true  idea  need  not  resemble 
its  object  at  all,  precisely  as  a  word  need  not  resemble  what 
it  denotes;  if  there  is  resemblance,  it  is  accidental  and 
negligible  so  far  as  truth  is  concerned.  The  truth  of  an 
idea  lies  not  in  the  present  relation  of  similarity,  nor  in  any 
present  relation  whatsoever,  but  in  the  practical  sequel. 
If,  in  relation  to  the  motive  which  prompted  me  to  form  it, 
my  idea  succeeds,  the  inciting  interest  being  satisfied,  my 
idea  is  true.  Ideas  are  essentially  instruments,  and  not 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  205 

images;  and  the  proof  of  the  instrument  is  in  the  using. 
The  particular  kind  of  excellence  proper  to  this  particular 
kind  of  instrument  is  called  '  truth.' 

§  5.  So  much  for  the  pragmatist  theory  of  truth  stated 
in  the  terms  common  to  all  pragmatists.  We  must  now 
pass  on  to  sharper  distinctions,  and  to  the 
ambiguities,  doubts,  and  criticisms  to  which 
cation  by  Per-  these  distinctions  give  rise.  The  success  or 
truth  of  the  idea  is  relative  to  its  use,  and  the 
verification  of  it  consists  in  successfully  using 
it.  But  there  are  various  uses  which  ideas  may  serve. 
Are  we  to  regard  all  of  these  uses  as  equally  germane  to  an 
idea's  truth?  I  may,  for  example,  be  induced  by  various 
motives  to  form  an  idea  of  my  future  state  in  the  life  after 
death.  Such  an  idea  may  serve  the  purpose  of  preparing 
me  for  what  I  am  going  to  see,  or  for  what  I  am  going  to  be 
called  upon  to  do.  Such  an  idea  may  console  me  for  the 
loss  of  friends,  or  it  may  be  demanded  by  the  logical  impli- 
cations of  my  philosophical  system.  Suppose  these  tests 
conflict.  Can  I  discriminate  among  them  as  respects 
priority?  Or  shall  I  attach  equal  weight  to  all,  and  deter- 
mine the  truth  of  my  idea  by  the  general  preponderance  of 
utility?  I  find  no  clear  answer  to  this  question  in  the 
writings  of  pragmatists.  All  four  of  these  tests,  and 
possibly  others,  are  recognized  as  valid;  and  the  choice 
from  among  them  would  seem  to  be  not  infrequently 
governed  by  the  exigencies  of  controversy.  In  order  to 
bring  out  more  clearly  the  difference  between  these  truth- 
tests  or  modes  of  verification,  I  shall  invent  names  for  them 
as  follows:  verification  by  perception,  consistency,  operation, 
sentiment,  and  general  utility. 

Verification  by  perception,  is  simply  the  following  up  of 
the  meaning  of  an  idea.  An  idea  means  something,  as 
we  have  seen,  when  it  is  so  connected  with  something  as  to 
lead  to  the  presentation  of  it.  The  idea  must  be  a  sort  of 
handle  to  the  object,  a  means  of  recovering  it.  And  when 
I  try  my  idea  by  using  it  to  recover  its  object,  I  verify  it 


206        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

in  this  first  sense.  It  is  true  if  the  perception  is  what  the 
idea  calls  for,  or  what  the  idea  leads  me  to  expect.  Thus 
having  an  idea  of  my  future  state  means  having  something 
now  in  mind  (it  may  be  no  more  than  a  verbal  complex) 
that  is  so  related  to  my  environment  as  to  conduct  me  to  a 
certain  locus  in  experience;  and  it  is  a  true  idea  in  propor- 
tion as  it  prepares  me  for  the  perception  which  would  there 
greet  me.  To  verify  my  idea  in  this  sense  would  be  to 
follow  its  lead  into  this  perceptual  presence,  and  so  test 
my  preparedness.  A  shock  of  novelty  and  surprise  would 
prove  the  untruth  of  my  idea;  a  sense  of  recognition  would 
indicate  its  truth.1 

Verification  by  consistency,  is  the  testing  of  the  idea  on 
trial,  by  ideas  already  in  good  and  regular  standing.  The 
idea  is  proved  true  by  this  test  when  it  is  not  contradicted 
by  other  ideas,  or  is  positively  implied  by  them.  Thus  my 
idea  of  my  future  state  is  proved  by  this  test  in  so  far  as  it 
is  not  contradicted  by  the  accepted  physiological  theory 
of  death,  or  is  implied  by  the  accepted  theory  of  the  nature 
of  the  soul. 

Now  verification  by  perception  and  by  consistency  evi- 
dently stand  apart  by  themselves.  They  correspond  to 
the  traditional  criteria  of  empiricism  and  rationalism.  In 
restating  them  pragmatism  has  simply  pointed  out  that 
in  both  cases  verification  is  a  series  of  acts,  governed  by 
motives,  and  terminating  in  success  or  failure.  Further- 
more, pragmatists  such  as  James  regard  these  two  modes  of 
verification  as  the  strictly  "theoretical"  tests  of  truth. 
They  may  not  in  any  given  case  be  sufficient,  but  so  far 
as  they  go  they  have  a  peculiar  validity.  "Between  the 
coercions  of  the  sensible  order  and  those  of  the  ideal  order 
our  mind  is  thus  wedged  tightly."  The  formation  of  ideas 
that  shall  be  determined  by  these  two  "coercions"  is  the 
cognitive  interest  in  the  narrow  sense.  Such  ideas  have  a 
"subsequential  utility"  —  that  is,  they  may  be  usefully 
employed  by  other  interests;  but  they  get  their  original 

1  For  similar  examples,  cf.  James:  op.  cit.,  pp.  33,  104. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF    KNOWLEDGE         207 

verification  from  perception  or  consistency.  And  "some- 
times alternative  theoretic  formulas  are  equally  compatible 
with  all  the  truths  we  know,  and  then  we  choose  between 
them  for  subjective  reasons."1  But  there  remains  an 
important  difference  between  the  grounds  of  the  validation 
of  the  alternatives,  and  the  grounds  of  the  validation  of 
such  a  choice  from  among  them.  All  this  strongly  sug- 
gests that  it  might  be  clearer  if  the  term  'true*  were 
restricted  to  ideas  verified  in  one  of  these  ways  —  by  per- 
ception or  by  ideal  consistency.  " Subsequential  utility" 
and  "subjective  reasons"  would  then  remain  as  extra- 
logical  grounds  of  belief.  One  might  readily  agree  that 
truth  in  this  narrower  sense  was  an  insufficient  criterion, 
that  the  exigencies  of  life  required  belief  in  excess  of  proof. 
But  the  stricter  truth  tests  would  not  be  confused  nor  their 
priority  compromised.  The  virtue  of  such  a  course  will 
become  more  apparent  as  we  proceed. 

§6.  By  'verification  by  operation'  I  mean  the  same 
thing  that  James  means  by  "subsequential  utility."  Or 
Venficatonby  to  empl°v  another  distinction  made  by  the 
Operation  and  same  author,  I  mean  verification  by  "active" 
by  sentiment  TSiiheT  ^^  «passive»  experience.2  Thus  my 

idea  of  my  future  state  is  verified  in  this  sense  in  so  far  as 
the  plans  which  I  base  on  it  succeed.  Such  would  be  the 
case,  for  example,  if  I  were  to  receive  my  reward  in  heaven 
for  sacrifices  deliberately  made  in  this  world. 

Pragmatism  has  rightly  insisted  upon  the  relation  of 
cognition  to  collateral  interests.  That  there  is  always 
some  such  relation  no  one  will  be  disposed  to  deny.  The 
cognitive  interest  is  one  of  the  functions  of  a  complex 
organism,  and  has  developed  because  of  its  organic  useful- 
ness. Whatever  is  known  is  available  for  any  uses  of 
which  the  organism  is  capable;  it  can  be  felt,  acted  on, 
talked  about,  written  down,  thought  about,  or  dealt  with 

1  James:  Pragmatism,  pp.  211,  217;  cf.  pp.  216-217;  Meaning  of  Truth, 
pp.  206  sq. 

*  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  210. 


208        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

in  any  of  the  other  ways  characteristic  of  human  life.  Mr. 
Schiller  goes  to  unnecessary  lengths  to  show  that  there  are 
no  useless  truths.  His  conclusion  could  be  drawn  at  once 
from  the  unity  of  the  psychophysical  organism;  the  sen- 
sory, associative,  affective,  and  motor  elements  in  human 
nature  all  contribute  to  a  more  or  less  common  fund  of 
resources.  And  one  may  easily  go  farther,  and  show  that 
the  solidarity  of  society  and  the  ready  means  of  communica- 
tion and  intercourse,  make  these  resources  available  for 
humanity  at  large.  But  this  is  very  far  from  a  proof  that 
truth  consists  in  such  uses.  They  are  involved  because  of 
the  organic  and  social  connections  of  the  truth-seeking 
function;  but  truth  would  not  cease  to  be  truth  if  some 
organic  or  social  abnormality  were  to  make  it  impos- 
sible to  use  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  since  the  develop- 
ment of  scientific  method  it  has  been  customary  to  reach 
truths  by  the  theoretical  means  above  described,  and  to 
regard  their  truth  as  established  quite  independently  of 
the  uses  to  which  subsequently  they  may  or  may  not 
be  put. 

The  issue  is  somewhat  confused  by  the  fact  that,  entirely 
apart  from  the  process  of  verification  itself,  many  truths 
are  practical  in  their  subject  matter.  The  cognitive  inter- 
est, originally  in  bondage  to  the  organism,  is  most  urgently 
concerned  with  what  may  be  called  truths  of  use.  The 
most  immediately  important  truths,  the  cash  truths,  so 
to  speak,  are  answers  to  questions  of  this  form:  What 
will  happen  to  me  if  I  do  a  to  b?  Truths  of  physical 
science  are  largely  of  this  order;  and  it  is  natural  to  regard 
these  as  generally  typical  because  of  their  bulk  and  urgency. 
But  it  will  be  observed  that  truth  is  here  made,  not  by  the 
practical  sequel  to  the  theory,  but  by  embracing  the  prac- 
tical sequel  within  the  theory,  and  then  testing  the  whole 
by  'perception.'  If  I  find  that  c  will  happen  to  me  if  I 
do  a  to  b,  I  am  experiencing  the  nature  of  a  temporal  cir- 
cuit, including  terms  belonging  both  to  the  environment 
and  to  my  own  body.  Experiment  is  here  not  an  external 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE         20p 

practical  test,  but  the  living  through,  the  direct  serial 
experience  of,  a  set  of  connected  events. 

It  is  proper  to  ask,  then,  whether  verification  by  oper- 
ation is  an  independent  test  of  truth.  For  it  would 
appear  to  be  either  the  employment  of  truths  already 
established  by  our  two  former  tests,  or  only  a  special  form 
of  these  tests.  Let  me  quote  an  example  from  Professor 
A.  W.  Moore.  "  The  idea  of  an  ache  as  the  ache  of  a 
certain  tooth  is  true,  if  an  operation  on  the  tooth  alters  the 
ache."1  This  verification  can  be  construed  in  one  of  two 
ways.  On  the  one  hand,  the  judgment  'such  a  tooth  is 
aching '  is  verified  by  observing  the  localization  of  the  ache, 
or  by  inference  from  the  diseased  character  of  the  tooth. 
The  latter  would,  I  should  suppose,  be  regarded  as  in  the 
last  analysis  the  most  reliable  test;  and  both  would  fall 
under  one  or  the  other  of  the  strictly  theoretical  criteria 
above  described.  And  whether  one  thereupon  has  the 
tooth  pulled,  or  not,  would  not  affect  the  truth  of  the 
judgment  so  verified.  The  truth  would  be  useful,  but  its 
usefulness  would  be  a  secondary  and  irrelevant  circum- 
stance. Or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  judgment  "were  I  to 
have  this  tooth  pulled,  the  pain  would  disappear"  is 
verified  by  observing  the  sequence  tooth  pulled  —  ache  gone, 
where  the  judgment  refers  to  an  operation  and  is  verified 
by  perceiving  the  operation.  Thus  in  both  cases  truth  is 
tested  by  perception  or  consistency;  and  pragmatism 
instead  of  adding  a  new  test,  is  confined  to  showing  the 
pragmatic  character  of  the  old  familiar  tests  of  experiment 
and  inference. 

Verification  by  sentiment,  is  the  proof  of  an  idea  by  its 
immediate  pleasantness  or  by  its  tonic  effect  upon  the  will. 
Thus  my  idea  of  my  future  state  is  verified  in  this  sense 
if  "I  like  the  idea,"  or  if  it  makes  life  better  worth  living. 
"We  choose  the  kind  of  theory  to  which  we  are  already 
partial,"  says  James;  "we  follow  'elegance'  or  'economy.' " 
"No  completely  pessimistic  system  is  ever  judged  com- 

1  Pragmatism  and  its  Critics,  p.  87. 
IS 


210        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

pletely  'true/"  says  Schiller;  "because  it  leaves  unre- 
moved  and  unresolved  a  sense  of  final  discord  in  existence, 
it  must  ever  stimulate  anew  to  fresh  efforts  to  overcome 
the  discrepancy.1  But  it  is  clearly  recognized  by  both 
of  these  writers  that  such  considerations  of  sentiment  are 
to  be  allowed  to  weigh  only  when  the  tests  of  perception 
or  consistency  are  not  decisive.  Were  the  less  parsimonious 
or  less  harmonious  hypothesis  to  be  verified  by  an  experi- 
mentum  cmcis,  or  proved  the  only  means  of  avoiding 
contradiction,  man's  taste  for  parsimony  and  harmony 
would  not  create  the  least  presumption  against  it.  The 
perfectly  agreeable  hypothesis  must  yield  at  once  before 
fact  or  contradiction. 

Would  it  not  be  clearer  and  more  accurate,  then,  to  say 
that  while  sentiment  has  nothing  to  do  with  truth,  it  may,  as 
an  extra-logical  motive,  be  allowed  to  influence  belief  where 
verification  proper  is  impossible?  Indeed  this  is,  I  think, 
a  fair  rendering  of  James's  famous  "right  to  believe." 
The  religious  hypothesis  is  essentially  an  unverifiable 
hypothesis.  Appeal  to  sensible  facts  and  inference  from 
established  truth  both  leave  the  issue  doubtful.  But 
meanwhile  it  is  necessary  to  act  on  some  such  hypothesis. 
We  must  in  the  practical  sense  believe  where  we  cannot 
in  the  theoretical  sense  know.  And  here  we  are  justified  in 
allowing  our  tastes  and  our  hopes  to  incline  the  balance. 
For  we  should  be  no  better  supported  by  proof  if  we 
believed  the  contrary,  and  should  lose  the  emotional  values 
beside.  Furthermore,  in  this  case,  belief  contributes 
evidence  in  its  own  support.  For  what  I  believe  in  is,  so 
far  as  I  am  actively  concerned  in  it,  the  more  likely  to 
prevail  if  I  do  so  believe.  Such  a  making  true,  means 
making  facts  which  will  in  time  afford  a  sensible  verifica- 
tion for  my  belief.  So  in  James's  entire  philosophy  of 
religion2  it  is  constantly  implied  that  there  is  a  strict  sense 
of  the  term  'truth,'  relating  to  the  cognitive  or  theoretic 

1  James:  Pragmatism,  p.  217;  F.  C.  S.  Schiller:  Humanism,  p.  50. 
*  See  below,  pp.  369-370. 


PRAGMATIC  THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE         211 

interest,  and  both  independent  of  and  prior  to  all  senti- 
mental grounds  for  belief. 

§  7.  Verification  by  general  utility,  is  the  proof  of  an 
idea's  truth  by  the  total  satisfaction  it  affords,  by  its 
Verification  by  suitability  to  all  the  purposes  of  life,  individual 
General  utility  and  SQ^  "Truth,"  writes  Schiller,  "is  that 
manipulation  of  [objects]  which  turns  out  upon  trial  to  be 
useful,  primarily  for  any  human  end,  but  ultimately  for 
that  perfect  harmony  of  our  whole  life  which  forms  our 
final  aspiration."1  Thus,  my  idea  of  the  future  state 
would  be  proved  true  on  this  ground,  if  it  proved  in  all 
respects  a  good  idea  to  live  by,  borne  out  by  facts,  consist- 
ent with  my  other  ideas,  a  good  working  hypothesis,  and 
above  all  consoling  and  inspiring.  And  it  would  receive 
additional  verification  of  the  same  type  if  it  satisfied  the 
needs  of  mankind  in  the  aggregate  and  survived  the  test 
of  time. 

The  significant  thing  about  this  criterion  is  its  indiscrimi- 
nate merging  of  the  more  specific  criteria  discussed  above. 
Pragmatists  have  repeatedly  protested  that  the  truth  of  an 
idea  is  determined  by  the  specific  purpose  and  the  specific 
situation  that  give  rise  to  the  idea.  Thus  Dewey  says, 
"It  is  the  failure  to  grasp  the  coupling  of  truth  of  meaning 
with  a  specific  promise,  undertaking,  or  intention  expressed 
by  a  thing  which  underlies,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  criti- 
cisms passed  upon  the  experimental  or  pragmatic  view  of 
the  truth."2  In  this  opinion  Dewey  is  undoubtedly  cor- 
rect. Pragmatism  has  seemed  to  most  of  its  critics  to  put 
strictly  cognitive  considerations  upon  a  par  with  considera- 
tions of  sentiment  and  subsequential  utility.  And  prag- 
matist  writers  are  responsible  for  this  impression  —  or 
misunderstanding,  if  such  it  be.  Owing  perhaps  to  the 

1  Humanism,  p.  61. 

1  Influence  of  Darwin  on  Philosophy,  and  other  Essays,  p.  0.5,  note.  Cf. 
also  Studies  in  Logic,  pp.  20,  23,  where  he  defines  a  logic  concerned  with 
"description  and  interpretation  of  the  function  of  reflective  thought,"  and 
insists  that  thought  cannot  be  judged  "apart  from  the  limits  of  particular 
crises  in  the  growth  of  experience." 


212        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

exigencies  of  controversy,  or  to  a  carelessness  of  state- 
ment, pragmatists  have  taught  us  to  believe  that  an  idea 
is  true  in  so  far  as  it  works  or  satisfies  in  any  respect  what- 
soever.1 Or  they  have  referred  now  to  one  ideational  value 
and  now  to  another,  without  consistently  distinguishing  the 
cognitive  value  from  the  rest.  It  has  not  unnaturally 
been  supposed  that  pragmatism  intends  to  make  these 
various  values  commensurable  and  interchangeable.  And 
it  would  be  correct  to  infer  from  such  a  supposition  that 
an  idea  which  was  shown  to  be  contrary  to  sensible  fact, 
or  contradictory  to  accredited  truths,  might  yet  be  proved 
true  by  affording  a  surplus  of  sentimental  or  utilitarian 
value. 

But  such  a  conclusion  is  very  properly  denounced  as 
reactionary.  Science  has  become  solvent  and  prosperous 
through  regarding  these  values  as  fictitious,  and  exclud- 
ing them  from  its  accounts.  Indeed  enlightenment  and 
criticism  mean  little  more  than  conscious  discrimination 
against  these  values.  For  the  intellectual  hero,  this  is  the 
great  renunciation.  He  must  forego  the  pleasing  and  the 
hopeful  hypothesis,  and  he  must  be  resolutely  indifferent 
to  the  extra-theoretical  uses  to  which  his  hypothesis  may  be 
put.  Knowledge  advances  pari  passu  with  the  specializa- 
tion and  refinement  of  the  theoretic  interest.  The  very 
use  of  knowledge,  the  variety  and  fruitfulness  of  its  applica- 
tions, depend  on  its  being  first  tried  and  proved  independ- 
ently of  these  applications.  And  knowledge  is  a  means 
of  adaptation,  not  in  proportion  to  its  pleasantness  and 
hopefulness,  but  in  proportion  as  it  dispels  illusions,  be 
they  ever  so  grateful  and  inspiring.  In  short  the  pragma- 
tist  handling  of  this  question  of  truth  is  confusing  and 
dangerous  in  so  far  as  it  consists  of  loose  generaliza- 

1  Cf.,  e.g.,  such  a  statement  as  the  following:  "All  that  the  pragmatic 
method  implies,  then,  is  that  truths  should  have  practical  consequences. 
In  England  the  word  has  been  used  more  broadly  still,  to  cover  the  notion 
that  the  truth  of  any  statement  consists  in  the  consequences,  and  particu- 
larly in  their  being  good  consequences."  James:  The  Meaning  of  Truth, 

P.  S3- 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE         213 

tions  concerning  the  practical  or  satisfying  character  of 
truth;  in  so  far  as  it  tends  to  blur  the  difference  between 
the  strictly  theoretic  value  of  ideas  on  the  one  hand,  and 
certain  derivative  and  secondary  values  on  the  other. 
Pragmatism  is  reactionary  and  dangerous  in  so  far  as  it 
coordinates  and  equalizes  verification  by  perception  and 
consistency  with  verification  by  sentiment  and  subsequen- 
tial  utility. 

There  remains  a  strict  and  limited  pragmatism  which  is 
not  guilty  of  this  offence.  Such  a  pragmatism  consists  in 
the  proof  that  the  theoretic  interest  itself  is  in  fact  an 
interest.  Ideas  are  functional  rather  than  substantial. 
Their  relation  to  their  objects  is  not  one  of  resemblance, 
but  of  leading  or  guidance.  Their  verification  is  not  a 
matching  of  similars,  but  a  process  in  which  their  leading 
or  guidance  is  followed  to  that  terminus  of  fact  or  being 
which  they  mean.  And  since  the  theoretic  interest  is  an 
interest,  it  is  as  a  whole  rooted  in  life,  and  answerable  to 
the  needs  and  projects  of  life.  In  other  words,  truth,  a 
theoretic  utility,  has  also,  because  of  the  auspices  under 
which  it  is  begotten,  a  subsequential  utility.  Finally,  it 
is  the  proper  and  consistent  sequel  to  this  to  allow  taste, 
aspiration,  and  hope  to  incline  the  balance  of  belief  when, 
and  only  when,  truth  in  the  strict  sense  is  not  attainable. 

§  8.  Epistemology  and  metaphysics  are  so  intimately 
related  in  contemporary  philosophy,  that  a  theory  of 
The  Realistic  knowledge  is  not  infrequently  accepted  with- 
Versionof  out  further  ado  as  a  theory  of  being.  And 

Pragmatism         y^    ^    W(J    haye    leamed    from    our    study    Qf 

idealism,  such  procedure  begs  a  most  crucial  philosophical 
question.  What  is  the  place  of  knowledge  in  reality? 
To  what  extent  does  the  order  of  nature  conform  to  the 
order  of  knowledge?  Is  the  cognitive  version  of  experience 
final  and  definitive,  or  is  it  abstract  and  partial?  These 
are  clearly  independent  questions,  that  are  not  necessarily 
involved  in  an  account  of  knowledge  itself.  We  have  thus 
far  confined  our  attention  to  the  pragmatist  description 


214        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

of  the  knowledge  process.  We  must  now  face  the  further 
question:  What  is  the  pragmatist  doctrine  concerning  the 
metaphysical  status  of  the  knowledge  process?  And  we 
shall  find,  I  believe,  that  pragmatism  is  here  divided 
against  itself  on  the  same  issue  that  divides  idealism  and 
realism.  Some  pragmatists,  such  as  James,  are  avowedly, 
and  on  the  whole  consistently,  realistic.  Others,  such  as 
Schiller,  favor,  if  they  do  not  unequivocally  adopt,  the  sub- 
jectivistic  alternative. 

Let  us  examine,  first,  the  realistic  version  of  pragmatism. 
Knowledge,  according  to  all  pragmatists,  is  a  specific  com- 
plex, comprising  an  idea  or  belief,  an  object  ideated  or 
believed,  and  a  relation  of  meaning  and  verification  con- 
necting the  two.  Now  a  realistic  version  of  this  theory 
will  assert  that  the  various  components  of  the  knowledge 
process  are  independent  of  their  places  in  this  process. 
They  are  regarded  as  having  other  places  besides,  so  that 
their  being  is  not  conditional  on  their  finding  a  place 
in  knowledge.1  Thus  a  realistic  pragmatist  will  in  his 
epistemology  describe  the  sensible  facts  of  nature  as  the 
termini  to  which  ideas  lead,  but  he  will  not  suppose  that 
such  facts  must  be  thus  related  to  ideas  in  order  to  be. 
Sensible  facts  are  occasionally  and  accidentally  the  termini 
of  ideas,  but  not  essentially  so.  And  he  is  led  naturally  to 
this  view  by  his  acceptance  of  the  general  biological  cate- 
gories. Knowledge  is  a  form  of  adaptation  to  a  preexisting 
environment.  Thought  proposes,  fact  disposes.  "If  my 
idea  is  to  work,"  says  Bradley,  in  criticising  pragmatism, 
"it  must  correspond  to  a  determinate  being  which  it  can- 
not be  said  to  make." 2  In  the  name  of  pragmatism,  James 
accepts  this  very  conclusion.  "I  start  with  two  things,  the 
objective  facts  and  the  claims,  and  indicate  which  claims,  the 
facts  being  there,  will  work  successfully  as  the  latter's  sub- 
stitutes and  which  will  not.  I  call  the  former  claims  true." 

1  For  a  full  discussion  of  the  relation  between  realism  and  pragmatism, 
cf.  W.  P.  Montague's  articles,  "May  a  Realist  be  a  Pragmatist?"  Jour, 
of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  VI,  Nos.  17-20. 

1  "On  Truth  and  Practice,"  Mind,  N.  S.,  Vol.  XIII,  p.  311. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE         215 

And  again,  "For  him  [the  pragmatist],  as  for  his  critic,  there 
can  be  no  truth  if  there  is  nothing  to  be  true  about.  .  .  . 
This  is  why  as  a  pragmatist  I  have  so  carefully  posited 
'reality'  ab  initio,  and  why,  throughout  my  whole  discus- 
sion, I  remain  an  epistemological  realist."1 

§  9.  A  subjectivistic  version  of  pragmatism,  on  the  other 
hand,  identifies  the  components  of  knowledge  altogether 
The  Subjectiv-  ^h  t^ie^r  place  m  that  system,  and  there 
istic  Version  of  results  a  metaphysics  in  which  reality  coincides 
Pragmatism  ^^  ^  fa5iory  of  knowledge.  Reality  is 
either  fact,  idea,  or  "funded"  belief,  where  these  are  defined 
as  terms  in  the  pragmatic  process  of  verification.  What- 
ever is  known  is  essentially  such,  owing  its  character  and 
its  reality  to  the  circumstance  of  its  being  known. 

Thus  Schiller  writes,  "That  the  Real  has  a  determinate 
nature  which  the  knowing  reveals  but  does  not  affect,  so 
that  our  knowing  makes  no  difference  to  it,  is  one  of  those 
sheer  assumptions  which  are  incapable,  not  only  of  proof, 
but  even  of  rational  defence.  It  is  a  survival  of  a  crude 
realism  which  can  be  defended  only,  in  a  pragmatist  manner, 
on  the  score  of  its  practical  convenience,  as  an  avowed 
fiction."  Since  reality  is  essentially  what  it  is  in  the 
knowledge  process,  Schiller  naturally  concludes  that 
"ontology,  the  theory  of  Reality,"  is  "conditioned  by 
epistemology,  the  theory  of  our  knowledge";  and  since  the 
knowledge  process  is  essentially  practical  it  is  proper  to 
conclude  that  "our  ultimate  metaphysic  must  be  ethical"* 

James  has  asserted  that  Schiller's  view  differs  from  his 
own  only  in  method  of  approach.  "As  I  myself  under- 
stand these  authors,  we  all  three  [including  Dewey]  abso- 
lutely agree  in  admitting  the  transcendency  of  the  object 

1  The  Meaning  of  Truth,  pp.  xix,  195.  Cf.  Dewey:  "So  I  beg  to  remind 
you  that,  according  to  pragmatism,  ideas  (judgments  and  reasonings  being 
included  for  convenience  in  this  term)  are  attitudes  of  response  taken  toward 
extra-ideal,  extra-mental  things."  (Influence  of  Darwin,  etc.,  p.  155.)  But 
cf.  below,  pp.  225,  314-315- 

»  Humanism,  pp.  n,  note,  9, 105. 


21 6        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

(provided  it  be  an  experienceable  object)  to  the  subject, 
in  the  truth-relation.  .  .  .  What  misleads  so  many  of  them 
[the  critics]  is  possibly  ...  the  fact  that  the  universes 
of  discourse  of  Schiller,  Dewey,  and  myself  are  panoramas 
of  different  extent.  .  .  .  Schiller's  universe  is  the  smallest, 
being  essentially  a  psychological  one.  He  starts  with  but 
one  sort  of  thing,  truth-claims,  but  is  led  ultimately  to 
the  independent  objective  facts  which  they  assert,  inas- 
much as  the  most  successfully  validated  of  all  claims  is 
that  such  facts  are  there.  My  universe  is  more  essen- 
tially epistemological.  I  start  with  two  things."1 

But  the  transcendency  of  the  object  "in  the  truth  relation" 
is  not  realism.  This  means  no  more  than  that  cognition 
is  essentially  dual,  and  does  not  affect  the  question  of  the 
transcendency  of  the  object  with  reference  to  cognition 
as  a  whole.  Realism  asserts  not  only  that  the  object 
transcends  the  idea,  but  that  it  in  some  sense  transcends 
even  that  status  of  objectivity  in  which  it  is  cognitively 
related  to  an  idea.  Nor  does  James  recognize  the  crucial 
importance,  in  connection  with  this  issue,  of  the  starting- 
point.  Because  Schiller's  universe  of  discourse  is  a  psy- 
chological one,  it  turns  out  in  the  end  that  his  universe  is 
a  psychological  one  also.  He  not  only  begins,  but  ends, 
within  the  knowledge  process.  Indeed  he  expressly  adopts 
the  phrase  "idealistic  experientialism "  "to  designate 
the  view  that  'the  world'  is  primarily  'my  experience/ 
plus  (secondarily)  the  supplementings  of  that  experience 
which  its  nature  renders  it  necessary  to  assume.  ...  In 
that  case  the  world,  in  which  we  suppose  ourselves  to  be,  is, 
and  always  remains,  relative  to  the  experience  which  we 
seek  to  interpret  by  it."2 

Precisely  the  same  objections  which  hold  against  idealism 
in  general  hold  against  "experiential  idealism."  For  its 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  Preface,  pp.  xvii-xix  (italics  mine).  Cf.  also  pp. 
242-244. 

1  Humanism,  p.  281.  Whether  any  pragmatist  is  wholly  free  from  the 
subjectivistic  taint  of  the  term  'experience,'  is  perhaps  doubtful.  See 
below,  pp.  314-315. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          217 

grounds  are  precisely  the  same.  Arguing  from  'the 
ego-centric  predicament/  Schiller  says:  "The  simple  fact 
is  that  we  know  the  Real  as  it  is  when  we  know  it;  we  know 
nothing  whatever  about  what  it  is  apart  from  that  process." l 
And,  his  "ethical  metaphysics"  is  virtually  assumed  when 
he  takes  the  world  knowledge-wise  at  the  outset.  In  other 
words,  he  is  also  guilty  of  the  fallacy  of  'definition  by  initial 
predication/  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  repeat  what  I 
have  already  said  concerning  these  basal  errors  of  the  whole 
subjectivistic  way  of  thinking.2  And  the  subjectivistic 
principle  in  pragmatism  is  not  only  unproved,  but  here,  as 
elsewhere,  is  essentially  vicious.  Before  pressing  this  criti- 
cism further,  however,  I  wish  to  consider  the  bearing  of 
the  realistic-subjectivistic  alternative  upon  several  prag- 
matist  conceptions. 

§  10.  There  is,  for  example,  a  realistic  and  a  subjec- 
tivistic version  of  "satisfaction."  Satisfaction,  realistically 
Realistic  and  construed,  is  grounded  on  a  determinate  relation 
Subjectivistic  between  interest,  instrument,  and  environment. 
sSrcetbn°nS'  Under  given  circumstances,  and  in  behalf  of 
The  Making  of  the  governing  interest,  a  certain  instrumen- 
tality tality  has  an  objective  Tightness  or  fitness.3 
Thus  an  idea  may  'satisfy'  the  situation,  in  the  sense  of 
meeting  it.  The  confrontation  of  interest  and  environment 
is  prior  and  independent,  and  imposes  conditions  upon 
the  idea.  So  that  the  idea  which  feels  satisfactory  to  the 
agent  may  not  in  fact  work.  There  is  a  difference  between 
a  sense  of  adaptation  and  real  adaptation. 

In  subjectivistic  terms,  on  the  other  hand,  the  state  of 
felt  satisfaction  is  decisive.  The  environment  and  the  in- 
terest have  no  inherent  structure  apart  from  the  successes 
of  knowledge.  They  are  the  modes  or  the  precipitates  of 
an  inwardly  harmonious  life.  From  the  subjectivistic 
standpoint,  accordingly,  there  is  no  difference  of  principle 
between  verification  by  contact  with  the  environment  and 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  ii,  note.  »  See  below,  pp.  333-334. 

*  See  above,  pp.  126-132. 


21 8        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

verification  by  sentiment.  Indeed  the  former  tends  to  be 
resolved  into  the  form  of  the  latter.1 

Or  consider  the  pragmatist  doctrine  that  knowing  makes 
reality.  For  the  realistic  pragmatist  this  doctrine  has  a 
very  limited  scope.  Schiller  sums  up  the  realistic  version 
of  the  matter  as  follows: 

(i)  "Our  making  of  truth  really  alters  'subjective* 
reality."  In  other  words,  knowing  adds  itself  to  reality. 
(2)  "Our  knowledge,  when  applied,  alters  'real  reality' 
and  (3)  is  not  real  knowledge  if  it  cannot  be  applied. 
Moreover  (4)  in  some  cases,  e.g.,  in  human  intercourse,  a 
subjective  making  is  at  the  same  time  a  real  making  of 
reality.  Human  beings,  that  is,  are  really  affected  by  the 
opinion  of  others."  (5)  "Mere  knowing  always  alters  reality, 
so  far  at  least  as  one  party  to  the  transaction  is  concerned. 
Knowing  always  really  alters  the  knower."  2 

A.  W.  Moore  gives  a  similar  account  of  knowledge  of 
the  past.  The  past  can  be  modified  by  knowledge  in  so 
far  as  the  sequel  to  the  past,  or  the  past  continued  into 
the  present,  can  be  affected  by  applied  knowledge  of  it. 
"  Caesar's  act,  like  John  Brown's, '  goes  marching  on.'  Like 
all  other  historic  acts,  it  is  not  yet  finished,  and  never  will 
be  so  long  as  it  continues,  through  acts  of  knowledge,  to 
produce  new  'results.'"3  In  other  words,  on  realistic 
grounds  a  thing  is  not  modified  simply  by  being  known. 
Knowledge  modifies  knowledge,  and  the  thing  which  is 
known  is  liable  on  that  account  to  be  acted  on,  and  so 
modified.  But  the  past  and  the  distant,  though  they  may 
be  known,  cannot  be  modified.  Only  the  present  con- 
tinuation of  the  past  or  the  near  continuation  of  the  dis- 
tant can  be  modified,  because  modification  requires  a 
propinquity  that  is  not  required  for  knowledge. 

But  this  restricted  modification  by  knowledge  does  not 
satisfy  the  metaphysical  yearnings  of  pragmatism.  The 

1  Cf.  Schiller,  Humanism,  pp.  49-50. 
*  Studies  in  Humanism,  pp.  438-439. 
1  A.  W.  Moore:  Pragmatism  and  its  Critics,  p.  103. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF    KNOWLEDGE          219 

pragmatist  as  a  rule  prefers  to  state  the  matter  loosely  — - 
to  assert  the  interesting  and  hopeful  generalization  that 
knowledge  makes  reality,  rather  than  to  specify  in  what 
respects.  Or  he  goes  over  altogether  to  the  radical  con- 
tention that  the  environment  is  wholly  plastic,  and  knowl- 
edge an  instrument  of  "creative  evolution."  In  the  essay 
from  which  I  have  quoted  above  Schiller  fondly  dwells  on 
such  a  speculative  possibility.  He  suggests  a  hylozoistic 
nature  that  responds  socially  as  our  fellows  respond.  He 
emphasizes  the  incompleteness  of  reality,  the  freedom  of 
man,  and  the  perpetual  yielding  of  fact  to  art.  And 
though  he  nowhere  removes  the  paradox  in  which  he 
admits  the  doctrine  to  be  involved,  he  makes  clear  his  faith 
"that  Truth  is  great  and  must  prevail,  because  it  has  the 
making  of  Reality."1 

The  issue  is  further  complicated  by  the  pragmatist  doc- 
trine concerning  concepts;  these,  as  distinguished  from 
percepts,  being  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  the  creatures  of 
the  knowing  process.  The  conceptualized  world,  at  least, 
is  a  made  world,  a  projection  of  practical  needs.  Bergson, 
the  arch-creationist  of  them  all,  rests  his  case  mainly  on  his 
theory  of  concepts,  and  we  shall  therefore  return  to  this 
matter  again. 

§  11.  We  have  already  learned  enough  to  enable  us  to 
recognize  the  seriousness  of  the  dilemma  by  which  prag- 
The  Dilemma  matism  is  confronted.  On  its  strictly  epistem- 
of  Pragmatism  ological  side  pragmatism  is  naturalistic  and 
biological.  The  mind  is  conceived  as  operating  in  an  envi- 
ronment to  whose  decrees  it  must  submit  as  the  price  of 
adaptation.  Upon  this  basis  the  complex  process  of  knowl- 
edge is  made  up  of  definable  parts.  Truth  is  a  product 
into  which  the  environment  enters  as  a  prior  and  inde- 
pendent component.  The  environment  is  not  itself  sub- 
ject to  the  fluctuations  and  vicissitudes  of  knowledge; 
and  knowledge  may  be  construed  as  a  human  and 
doubtful  enterprise  without  compromising  the  structure 

1  Studies  in  Humanism,  p.  451.    Cf.  p.  428. 


220        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

of  the  world  from  which  it  arises  and  to  which  it 
addresses  itself. 

But  when,  on  the  other  hand,  the  factors  of  knowledge, 
and  in  particular  its  environment,  are  regarded  as  the 
precipitate  of  knowledge  itself  —  then  knowledge  is  left 
suspended  in  mid-air.  It  must  be  conceived  as  somehow 
spinning  out  of  itself  the  very  auspices  and  surroundings 
which  condition  it  and  give  it  meaning.  There  arises  the 
same  contradiction  that  vitiates  the  Fichtean  idealism. 
Activity  must  itself  contrive  the  very  foil  and  medium  with- 
out which  it  cannot  act.  And  if  the  arguments  for  the  sub- 
jectivistic  view  are  accepted  as  valid,  there  is  no  defence 
against  the  vicious  paradoxes  of  relativism.  Individual 
judgments  conflict,  your  judgment  and  mine,  my  judg- 
ment of  today  and  my  judgment  of  to-morrow,  the  belief 
of  one  epoch,  and  the  belief  of  another;  and  the  objects  of 
these  judgments,  now  regarded  as  their  creations,  are  impli- 
cated in  this  conflict.  There  is  no  court  of  appeal  to  arbi- 
trate their  destructive  inconsistency.  It  is  not  that  there 
is  no  fixed  truth;  there  is  no  fixed  fact  or  being,  not  even 
past  events.  For  the  subjectivistic  pragmatist  has  des- 
troyed the  distinction  on  which  pragmatism  itself  has 
repeatedly  insisted,  the  distinction  between  truth  and 
reality.  There  are,  then,  only  two  courses  open  to  the 
subjectivistic  pragmatist.  If  he  is  to  retain  his  subjectiv- 
ism he  must  imitate  the  example  of  idealism,  and  accept 
a  cosmic  or  absolute  knower.  For  if  reality  is  to  repose  in 
knowledge,  there  must  be  a  knowledge  which  gives  shape 
and  outline  to  the  world.  The  voluntaristic  idealist  is  on 
subjectivistic  grounds  correct  in  charging  pragmatism  with 
relativism;  and  his  offer  of  "absolute  pragmatism"1  as  a 
harbor  of  refuge  is  both  pertinent  and  opportune. 

Thus  if  pragmatism  is  to  avoid  absolutism,  and  remain 
within  empirical  and  naturalistic  limits,  it  must  adopt  the 
realistic  alternative,  as  James  has  so  successfully  done. 

1  Royce:  William  James,  and  other  Essays,  p.  254;  cf.  also  "The  Eternal 
and  the  Practical,"  Phil.  Review,  Vol.  XIII,  1904. 


PRAGMATIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          221 

And  the  pragmatist  theory  of  knowledge  cannot  be  less 
illuminating  and  important  for  being  merely  a  theory  of 
knowledge.  To  it  will  still  belong  the  credit  for  an  original 
and  sound  analysis  of  the  process  of  reflective  thought  — 
for  a  scrupulously  empirical  account  of  'ideas/  of  'mean- 
ing,' and  of  '  truth'  as  a  specific  and  characteristic  form 
of  human  success. 


CHAPTER  X 
IMMEDIATISM  VERSUS  INTELLECTVALISM* 

§  i.  THE  pragmatist  theory  of  knowledge,  in  the  limited 
sense,  is  an  analysis  and  description  of  the  concrete  process 
Definition  of  of  intellection  or  reflective  thought.  It  is  an 
the  issue  account  of  mediate  knowledge,  or  knowledge 
about  —  of  that  knowledge  in  which  ideas  of  things  are 
entertained,  believed,  or  verified.  Pragmatism  finds  intel- 
lection to  be  essentially  a  practical  process,  or  operation. 
But  in  the  course  of  his  exposition,  the  pragmatist  is  per- 
petually attacking  what  he  calls  '  intellectualisw; '  by  which 
he  means  the  uncritical  use  of  the  intellect.  The  pragma- 
tist describes  the  intellect,  and  because  he  understands  it,  he 
can  discount  it;  the  "  intellectualist,"  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
poses a  blind  confidence  in  it.  The  pragmatist  sees  around 
the  intellect,  and  construes  reality  in  terms  of  its  process 
and  circumstances;  while  the  horizon  of  the  intellectualist  is 
bounded  by  the  intellect,  and  he  can  only  use  it  and  con- 
strue reality  in  terms  of  the  results.  Whereas  the  pragma- 
tist vitalizes  the  intellect,  his  opponent  intellectualizes  life. 

It  is  the  old  issue  between  the  intellectualistic  and  volun- 
taristic  views  of  the  soul,  revived  in  a  new  form;  and  it 
appears  at  first  as  though  it  were  merely  a  question  as  to 
which  of  two  parties  shall  have  the  last  word.  The  intel- 
lectualist asserts  that  the  will  is  a  case  of  knowledge;  it  is 
what  you  know  it  to  be ;  it  must  be  identified  with  your  idea 
or  definition  of  it.  The  voluntarist  or  pragmatist,  on  the 
other  hand,  protests  that  knowing  —  the  having  of  ideas  or 
the  framing  of  definitions,  is  a  case  of  willing.  And  we 
seem  to  be  launched  upon  an  infinite  series  of  rejoinders. 

1  Portions  of  this  and  the  following  chapter  are  reprinted  from  "  Notes 
on  the  Philosophy  of  Bergson,"  Jour,  of  Phil,  Psych.,  and  Scientific 
Methods,  Vol.  VIII,  1911,  Nos.  26,  27. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM  223 

But  such  is  not  necessarily  the  case.  For  it  is  entirely 
possible  to  regard  both  parties  as  correct.  Suppose  it  to 
be  admitted  that  knowing  is  a  kind  of  willing.  What,  then, 
is  willing?  Is  there  any  contradiction  in  supposing  that 
one  can  know;  in  supposing  that  one  can  will  to  know 
what  willing  is?  Bergson  evidently  believes  that  there  is. 
He  argues  that  the  intellect,  because  it  is  a  special  form  of 
life,  cannot  know  the  whole  of  life.  "Created  by  life,  in 
definite  circumstances,  to  act  on  definite  things,  how  can  it 
embrace  life,  of  which  it  is  only  an  emanation  or  an  aspect? 
Deposited  by  the  evolutionary  movement  in  the  course  of 
its  way,  how  can  it  be  applied  to  the  evolutionary  move- 
ment itself  ?"  l  But  why  not?  Unless  we  are  to  assume  that 
to  know  and  to  be  known  are  the  same  thing,  there  is  not 
the  slightest  difficulty  in  supposing  that  a  part  can  know  the 
whole.  Assuming  intellection  to  be  a  special  act,  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  supposing  that  it  addresses  itself  in  turn 
to  the  collateral  parts  of  life;  and  in  supposing  that  the 
act  itself  is  known  through  the  mutual  knowledge  of 
several  intellects.2  Furthermore,  it  is  absurd  to  describe 
knowing  as  willing  unless  one  does  know  what  willing  is. 

The  purely  dialectical  question  turns  out,  like  most  such 
questions,  to  be  a  quibble.  The  real  question  is  this:  is 
there  a  special  variety  of  knowledge,  namely  mediate  or  re- 
flective knowledge,  the  nature  of  which  as  a  process  can  be 
apprehended  only  by  another  more  general  variety  of  knowl- 
edge, namely  immediate  knowledge?  In  these  terms  it  is 
possible  to  distinguish  two  theoretical  opponents  and  adju- 
dicate their  quarrel.  The  pragmatist,  on  the  one  hand, 
finds  that  reflective  thought  needs  to  be  supplemented 
by  some  variety  of  non-reflective  experience.  Reflective 
thought,  for  example,  implies  sensible  facts,  which  are 
simply  sensed,  and  no  more.  Or,  reflective  thought  itself  is 
a  process,  which  as  such  is  directly  felt.  Again,  certain 
things,  such  as  time,  cannot  in  their  native  character  be 

1  Bergson:  Creative  Evolution,  trans,  by  A.  Mitchell,  p.  x;  d.  p.  49. 
1  Cf.  below,  pp.  255,  295-296. 


224       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

grasped  by  thought  at  all,  but  must  be  apprehended  by 
instinct.  The  intellectualist,  on  the  other  hand,  insists  that 
all  things  must  be  identified  with  what  we  know  of  them, 
and  that  there  is  but  one  way  to  know,  namely,  by  reflec- 
tive thought.  In  short,  the  real  support  of  the  pragmatist 
polemic  against  intellectualism  is  insistence  on  a  non-intellec- 
tual variety  of  knowledge,  which  is  more  fundamental  and 
more  comprehensive  than  intellection;  which  affords,  as 
James  expresses  it,  real  "insight"  as  distinguished  from 
the  superficiality  and  abstraction  of  intellection.1 

§  2.  Pragmatists  offer  different  versions  of  this  non-intel- 
lectual or  non-reflective  experience.  With  Bergson  it  is 
Non-inteilec-  "^e  ^nge  of  vague  intuition  that  surrounds 
tual  Experience,  our  distinct  —  that  is,  intellectual  —  represen- 

orlmmediacy      ^^  „      jf   he  hesitates  to  call  ft  knowledge, 

it  is  only  because  it  has  more  rather  than  less  of  cognitive 
value  than  knowledge  in  the  usual  sense.  "  The  feeling  we 
have  of  our  evolution  and  of  the  evolution  of  all  things  in 
pure  duration  is  there,  forming  around  the  intellectual 
concept  properly  so-called  an  indistinct  fringe  that  fades  off 
into  darkness."  And  intellectualism  forgets  "that  this 
nucleus  has  been  formed  out  of  the  rest  by  condensation, 
and  that  the  whole  must  be  used,  the  fluid  as  well  as  and 
more  than  the  condensed,  in  order  to  grasp  the  inner  move- 
ment of  life.  Indeed,  if  the  fringe  exists,  however  delicate 
and  indistinct,  it  should  have  more  importance  for  philos- 
ophy than  the  bright  nucleus  it  surrounds.  For  it  is  its 
presence  that  enables  us  to  affirm  that  the  nucleus  is  a  nucleus, 
that  pure  intellect  is  a  contraction,  by  condensation,  of  a 
more  extensive  power."2  In  short,  intellectual  knowledge 
is  surrounded  and  corrected  by  intuitive  or  immediate 
knowledge.  The  former  is  defined  and  assigned  limits  by 
the  evidence  of  the  latter. 

James  alone  of  pragmatist  writers  is  always  willing  to  refer 
to  the  non-intellectual  experience  as  a  species  of  knowledge. 
As  he  expresses  it  in  his  exposition  of  Bergson,  there  is 

1  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  246.  *  Op.  cit.,  pp.  49,  46  (italics  mine). 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          225 

"  a  living  or  sympathetic  acquaintance"  with  things,  distin- 
guished from  the  knowledge  about  them  that  "touches  only 
the  outer  surface  of  reality."  "The  only  way  in  which  to 
apprehend  reality's  thickness  is  either  to  experience  it 
directly  by  being  a  part  of  reality  one's  self,  or  to  evoke  it 
in  imagination  by  sympathetically  divining  some  one  else's 
inner  life."  If  you  are  to  really  "know  reality,"  you  must 
"dive  back  into  the  flux  itself,"  or  "turn  your  face 
toward  sensation,  that  fleshbound  thing  which  rationalism 
has  always  loaded  with  abuse."1 

Dewey's  opinion  would  seem  to  differ  from  that  of  Berg- 
son  and  James,  mainly  in  his  strict  reservation  of  the  term 
'knowledge'  for  the  intellectualized  experience.  The  non- 
intellectual  experience  is  there  in  his  view  as  in  that  of 
Bergson  and  James,  and  it  plays  substantially  the  same  role. 
"Things  are  what  they  are  experienced  to  be";  and  knowl- 
edge is  by  no  means  the  "only  genuine  mode  of  experien- 
cing." The*  "knowledge-object"  is  immersed  in  "an 
inclusive,  vital,  direct  experience."  There  is  an  "experi- 
ence in  which  knowledge-and-its-object  is  sustained,  and 
whose  schematized,  or  structural,  portion  it  is."  Knowing 
being  one  mode  of  experiencing,  "  the  primary  philosophic 
demand  [from  the  standpoint  of  immediatism]  is  to  find 
out  what  sort  of  an  experience  knowing  is  —  or,  concretely, 
how  things  are  experienced  when  they  are  experienced  as 
known  things."2  In  short,  this  extra-cognitive  experience 
is  clearly  an  experience  of  things  to  be,  an  experience  of 
things  as  such  and  such;  and  thus  a  revelation  of  their 
nature.  As  with  Bergson  and  James,  it  affords  the  light 
by  which  the  cognitive  process  itself  is  circumspected  and 
discounted,  and  intellectualism  denounced  as  rendering  a 
limited  view  of  reality. 

§  3.  Thus  far,  then,  the  pragmatist  polemic  against 
intellectualism  signifies  that  knowledge  commonly  so-called, 

1  A  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  249-252. 

1  "Reality  as  Experience,"  in  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and    Scientific 
Methods,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  256;  Influence  of  Darwin,  etc.,  pp.  228,  229. 
16 


226        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

the  knowledge  mediated  by  ideas,  is  but  oneway,  and 
that  not  the  most  profound  way,  of  knowing  things.  The 
essentially  practical  or  instrumental  character 
of  mediate  knowledge  suggests  that  it  is  knowl- 
ec^e  ^or  a  PurPose/  a  knowledge  limited  by 
a  governing  motive.  The  full  extent  and  native 
quality  of  reality,  including  the  ideational  or  mediating 
process  itself,  is  to  be  apprehended  only  by  immediacy, 
such  as  sensation  or  the  feeling  of  life.  We  must  now 
examine  the  grounds  of  this  pragmatist  contention.  We 
must  ask,  in  other  words,  why  it  is  that  intellectual  knowl- 
edge is  limited,  inadequate,  and  secondary. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  contended  that  mediation  implies 
immediacy.  The  mediating  relation  between  the  idea  and 
its  object,  always  implies  the  immediate  presence  of  the 
idea,  of  the  process,  and  eventually  of  the  object  or  terminus 
of  the  process.  "  It  is  in  the  concrete  thing  as  experienced," 
says  Dewey,  "that  all  the  grounds  and  clues  to  its  own 
intellectual  or  logical  rectification  are  contained."  "Sen- 
sations," says  James,  "are  the  mother-earth,  the  anchorage, 
the  stable  rock,  the  first  and  last  limits,  the  terminus  a  quo, 
and  the  terminus  ad  quern  of  the  mind."  Or,  as  he  puts  it 
more  emphatically,  "these  percepts,  these  termini,  these 
sensible  things,  these  mere  matters-of-acquaintance,  are 
the  only  realities  we  ever  directly  know,  and  the  whole 
history  of  our  thought  is  the  history  of  our  substitution  of  one 
of  them  for  another,  and  the  reduction  of  the  substitute  to  the 
status  of  a  conceptual  sign." 1 

Thus  not  only  is  mediate  knowledge  tested  by  immediacy, 
but  it  is  never  more  than  a  second  best,  a  mode  of  knowledge 
to  be  adopted  in  default  of  immediacy.  The  best  idea  will 
be  that  which  renders  its  own  existence  unnecessary  by 
leading  to  "an  actual  merging  of  ourselves  with  the  object, 
to  an  utter  mutual  confluence  and  identification,"  —  "a 
completely  consummated  acquaintance."2  This  follows 

1  Dewey:  op.  cit.,  p.  235;  James:  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  39  (italics  mine). 
1  James:  op.  cit.,  p.  156. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          227 

from  the  function  of  ideas.  Their  virtue  lies  in  their  sub- 
stitutional  and  provisional  character.  They  are  means  of 
knowing  beyond  the  limits  of  immediacy;  but  are  valid 
there  only  in  so  far  as  they  refer  to  possibilities  of  imme- 
diacy. It  is  not  unfair  to  say  that  on  anti-intellectualist 
grounds,  reality  is  revealed  only  when  it  is  actually  or 
potentially  present.  Whether  this  be  construed  as  a  limit- 
ing of  knowledge  in  general  or  only  of  one  kind  of  knowledge 
in  behalf  of  another,  is  a  matter  of  words.  Direct,  presen- 
tative,  immediate  experience,  in  which  reality  is  itself  in 
mind,  in  which  the  knower  and  the  known  coincide,  is  more 
comprehensive,  fundamental,  and  penetrating  than  the 
indirect,  representative,  mediate  experience  which  implies 
it,  refers  to  it,  and  is  formed  out  of  it. 

In  examining  further  the  grounds  of  the  pragmatist 
indictment  of  intellectualism  we  come  at  once  upon  the 
question  of  concepts.  Intellectualism  is  charged  with  a 
blind  and  excessive  use  of  concepts,  with  an  exclusive 
reliance  on  them  despite  the  abstractness  and  artificiality 
which  vitiate  them.  This  indictment  of  concepts  suggests 
their  distinguishing  marks.  A  concept  is  abstract  in  the" 
sense  of  being  a  discrimination,  separation,  and  fixation  of 
some  limited  portion  of  a  wider  experience.  Being  the 
work  of  analysis,  a  concept  is  clear  and  distinct.  A  concept 
is  unambiguous;  once  the  identification  has  taken  place 
the  concept  is  just  what  it  is  identified  as  being,  and  can 
never  be  anything  else.  It  is  discrete  and  changeless,  as 
distinguished  from  the  unlimited  richness,  the  marginal 
vagueness,  and  perpetual  flux  of  sense  and  feeling.  But 
these  virtues  are  offset  by  its  artificiality.  A  concept  is  an 
instrument,  owing  its  existence  and  form  to  its  use.  As  a 
human  artifact  it  is  other  than,  and  in  a  sense  false  to,  the 
primitive  experience  from  which  it  is  created  and  to  which 
it  is  applied.  In  other  words,  a  concept  is  an  idea,  in  the 
pragmatist  sense.1  To  this  disparagement  of  concepts  as 
abstract  and  artificial  we  must  now  turn. 

1  Whether  all  ideas  are  concepts  is  not  clear;   and  for  our  immediate 


228      PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

§  4.  James  bases  his  criticism  of  concepts  mainly  on 
their  abstractness.    He  repeatedly  emphasizes  their  selec- 
tive or  partial  character.   This  would  not  ren- 

The  Abstract-       •.«*«•*•  i  i  i    -, 

ness  of  Con-  der  them  false  if  it  were  understood,  and  due 
ieptfi  '  Ssm"  a^owance  made  for  it.  But  it  is  customary  for 
intellectualists  to  use  concepts  as  though  they 
were  exhaustive  of  their  objects,  and  to  deny  to  the  object 
whatever  is  not  contained  in  the  concept.  This  is  what 
James  calls  "vicious"  intellectualism  or  abstractionism. 
He  describes  it  as  follows:  "We  conceive  a  concrete  situa- 
tion by  singling  out  some  salient  or  important  feature  in  it, 
and  classing  it  under  that;  then,  instead  of  adding  to  its 
previous  characters  all  the  positive  consequences  which  the 
new  way  of  conceiving  it  may  bring,  we  proceed  to  use  our 
concept  privatively;  we  reduce  the  originally  rich  phenome- 
non to  the  naked  suggestions  of  that  name  abstractly  taken, 
treating  it  as  a  case  of  'nothing  but'  that  concept,  and 
acting  as  if  all  the  other  characters  from  out  of  which  the 
concept  is  abstracted  were  expunged."  * 

In  other  words,  "vicious  intellectualism"  proceeds  as 
though  a  conceptual  truth  about  a  thing  were  the  exclu- 
sive truth  about  the  thing;  whereas  it  is  true  only  so  far  as 
it  goes.  Thus  the  world  may  be  truly  conceived  as  perma- 
nent and  unified,  since  it  is  such  in  a  certain  respect.  But 
this  should  not  lead  us,  as  it  has  led  certain  intellectualists, 
to  suppose  that  the  world  is  therefore  not  changing  and 
plural.  We  must  not  identify  our  world  with  one  concep- 
tion of  it.  In  its  concrete  richness  it  lends  itself  to  many 
conceptions.  And  the  same  is  true  of  the  least  thing  in 
the  world.  It  has  many  aspects,  none  of  which  is  exhaus- 
tive of  it.  It  may  be  taken  in  many  relations  or  orders,  and 
be  given  different  names  accordingly.  As  it  is  immediately 
presented  it  contains  all  these  aspects,  as  potentialities  for 

purpose  it  is  not  necessary  to  determine.  See  below,  pp.  231-232.  The  best 
discussion  of  the  matter  is  to  be  found  in  James :  Some  Problems  of  Philoso- 
phy, pp.  48  sq. 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  249  (italics  mine);  cf.  ibid.,  p.  147;  and  Pluralistic 
Universe,  p.  218.  Cf.  also  below,  p.  365. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          22p 

the  discriminating  and  abstracting  operation  of  thought. 
"Vicious  intellectualism "  thus  rests  on  the  errors  that  I 
have  already  referred  to  as  'exclusive  particularity'  and 
'definition  by  initial  predication':  the  false  supposition 
that  because  a  thing  has  one  definable  character,  it  cannot 
also  have  others;  and  that  because  it  has  been  named  first 
for  one  of  its  aspects,  the  others  must  be  reduced  to  it 
or  deduced  from  it.1 

Now  the  fault  of  "vicious  intellectualism"  evidently  lies 
in  the  misuse  of  concepts,  and  not  in  the  nature  of  the  con- 
cepts themselves.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  our  supposing 
that  the  abstractness  of  single  concepts  can  be  compen- 
sated for  by  the  addition  of  further  concepts,  or  by  some 
conceptual  system  in  which  the  presence  and  interrelation 
of  many  concepts  is  specifically  provided  for.  In  this  case 
the  remedy  for  the  short-comings  of  concepts  would  be  more 
concepts.  But  the  indictment  which  pragmatism  finds 
against  intellectualism  is  much  more  serious  than  this.  It 
is  charged'that  concepts  are  such  that  they  can  never  serve 
as  means  of  knowing  the  native  and  salient  characters  of 
reality.  To  grasp  these  we  must  abandon  concepts  alto- 
gether, and  turn  to  the  illumination  or  inspiration  of 
immediacy.  To  this  charge,  that  there  is  an  irremediable 
cognitive  flaw  in  concepts,  we  must  now  turn. 

§  5.  Of  eminent  contemporary  writers  belonging  to  the 
pragmatist  school  in  the  broad  sense,  Bergson  is  the  most 
radical  'anti-intellectualist.' 2  In  his  opinion 
ConcIptlUrto°f  intellect  not  only  divides  and  separates  reality, 
Grasp  Reality,  thus  replacing  its  concrete  fulness  with 
abstracted  and  partial  aspects;  but  is  doomed 
to  failure,  however  far  its  activities  may  be 
carried.  Intellect  cannot,  in  short,  correct  itself,  and 
atone  for  its  own  short-comings. 

The  cause  of  this  irretrievable  failure  lies  in  the  fact  that 

1  See  above,  pp.  126-128. 

1  Although  his  view  is  expounded  with  evident  approval  by  James,  in 
A  Pluralistic  Universe,  Lect.  VI. 


230        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

intellect  is  essentially  the  instrument  of  action.  For  the 
purpose  of  action  it  is  necessary  to  specify  and  fixate  some 
present  aspect  of  the  environment.  The  object  of  action 
must  be  distinguished  and  held  by  the  attention.  Through 
the  repetition  of  such  attitudes  the  intellect  elaborates  a 
scheme  or  diagram  in  which  the  several  terms  of  analysis 
are  correlated.  They  remain  distinct  and  external,  but 
are  woven  by  relations  into  a  system,  which  is  like  its  com- 
ponent terms  in  being  stereotyped  and  fixed.  The  pattern 
of  all  such  systems  is  geometry,  the  most  perfect  expression 
of  the  analytical  method.  The  sign  of  the  intellect's  handi- 
work is  spacial  "  juxtaposition  "  and  arrangement,  the  static 
coordination  of  discriminated  elements.  In  vain,  then, 
does  the  intellect  seek  to  correct  itself  —  for  the  further  it 
proceeds  the  more  thoroughly  does  it  reduce  reality  to  this 
form. 

And  it  is  this  form  itself,  and  not  any  specific  or  incom- 
plete phase  of  it,  that  is  foreign  to  the  native,  aboriginal 
quality  of  reality.  The  latter  abides,  not  in  fixity,  but  in 
fluidity;  not  in  sharpness  of  outline,  but  in  adumbration; 
not  in  external  juxtaposition,  but  in  "interpenetration;" 
not  in  discreteness,  but  in  continuity;  not  in  space,  but  in 
time.  The  helplessness  of  the  intellect  to  escape  its  own 
inveterate  habits  appears  most  strikingly  in  its  treatment  of 
time.  For  it  spacializes  even  this,  conceiving  it  as  a  linear 
series  of  instants,  whereas  real  time  is  an  "enduring"  (duree 
reelle),  a  continuous  and  cumulative  history,  a  "growing 
old."  And  this  real  time  we  cannot  think;  we  must  "live 
it,  because  life  transcends  intellect."  l 

A  radical  anti-intellectualism  may  serve  as  the  ground 
of  an  attack  upon  science,  as  is  illustrated  by  the  views  of 
the  French  pragmatist  LeRoy,  and  the  Italian  pragmatist 
Papini.  "  Science  consists  only  of  conventions,  and  to  this 
circumstance  solely  does  it  owe  its  apparent  certitude;  the 
facts  of  science  and,  a  fortiori,  its  laws  are  the  artificial  work 

1  Bergson's  Creative  Evolution,  trans,  by  A.  Mitchell,  pp.  xiv,  46.  Cf. 
Ch.  I,  passim. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          231 

of  the  scientist;  science  therefore  can  teach  us  nothing  of 
the  truth;  it  can  serve  only  as  a  rule  of  action."  l  But 
there  is  a  sequel.  For  with  LeRoy  and  Papini,  as  with 
Bergson,  the  failure  of  science  is  compensated  by  an  imme- 
diate sense  of  the  power  of  life.  Science  manufactures 
concepts,  which  misrepresent  reality;  but  the  life  which 
science  serves,  the  creative  agency  which  forges  and  uses 
the  instruments,  is  known  to  itself  by  instinct  and  faith. 

§  6.  This  wholesale  indictment  of  the  intellectual  method 
rests,  I  am  convinced,  on  a  misunderstanding  of  that 
The  Failure  of  rnethod.  It  will  be  worth  our  while  to  seek 
Anti-inteiiec-  more  light  on  the  matter.  In  the  first  place, 
UndeStlnd  as  has  been  already  suggested,2  neither  Berg- 
the  intellectual  son  nor  James  is  clear  as  to  whether  a  concept 
JSSfriS1"  is  to  be  distinguished  by  its  function  or  by  its 
tion  and  as  content.  Is  '  concept '  the  same  as  '  idea,'  or 
is  it  a  special  class  of  ideas?  This  question  is 
of  crucial  importance.  For  if  'concept'  is  only  another 
name  for  'idea,'  and  if  an  idea  is  essentially  a  function  or 
office,  and  not  a  content,  then  the  failure  of  concepts  must 
mean  simply  the  failure  of  the  ideating  or  mediating  opera- 
tion of  thought.  But  this  operation,  according  to  the 
pragmatist  account,  is  essentially  a  mode  of  access  to  imme- 
diacy. The  more  it  is  perfected  the  more  unerringly  it 
leads  us  into  the  presence  of  its  object.  To  prove  that 
intellect  is  essentially  instrumental,  and  then  to  attack  it 
in  behalf  of  the  very  end  for  which  it  is  useful,  would  be  a 
strange  procedure.  In  fact  the  anti-intellectualist  perpetu- 
ally employs  intellect  in  this  sense,  even  with  reference  to 
'  reality.'  He  uses  words  and  figures  of  speech  which  he 
hopes  will  conduct  the  reader  or  hearer  to  the  immediate 
experience  in  which  'reality'  is  revealed.  A  pragmatist 
can  have  no  ground  for  maintaining  that  there  is  any 
reality  which  cannot  be  represented,  for  he  means  by  repre- 

1  Quoted  from  an  exposition  and  criticism  of  LeRoy  by  Poincare",  in 
The  Value  of  Science  (trans,  by  Halsted),  p.  112.  See  also  above,  pp.  93  ff. 
For  Papini,  cf.  below,  p.  264. 

1  See  above,  p.  227. 


232        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

sentation  only  a  pointing  or  guiding,  for  which  anything 
may  serve.  Whatever  is  experienced  or  felt  can  be  repre- 
sented in  this  sense,  because  it  is  necessary  only  that  it 
should  have  a  locus  or  context  to  which  one  may  be  directed. 

We  may  suppose,  then,  that  what  the  anti-intellectualist 
attacks  is  not  the  idea  as  such,  but  a  certain  class  of  ideas; 
such,  for  example,  as  the  logical  and  mathematical  ideas, 
'  term,' '  line,'  etc.  But '  term '  and  '  line '  are  ideas  only  when 
used  in  a  certain  way.  In  themselves  they  are  simply  char- 
acteristic bits  of  experience.  They  may  be  immediately 
known  or  presented,  as  well  as  used  in  ch'scursive  thought. 
Even  'abstractions'  may  be  apprehended  by  a  direct  act 
of  discrimination,  and  it  is  only  in  such  direct  apprehen- 
sion that  their  specific  character  is  revealed.  It  cannot  be 
claimed  that  such  bits  of  experience  as  '  term '  and  '  line  ' 
are  peculiarly  ill-fitted  to  serve  as  ideas,  because,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  content  of  an  idea  is  irrelevant.  Any  bit  of 
experience  will  do,  as  is  best  illustrated  by  the  case  of  words. 
In  short  the  fault,  if  there  be  any,  cannot  lie  in  the  intel- 
lectual use  of  these  elements;  it  must  lie,  not  in  their 
employment  as  ideas,  but  in  their  inherent  character.  The 
anti-intellectualist  polemic  must  mean  that  reality  is  not 
such  as  'term'  and  'line';  or  that  these  characters  are 
somehow  contradicted  and  overruled  by  the  dominant 
characters  of  reality,  such  as  continuity  and  life. 

§  7.  But  this  contention  rests,  I  think,  on  another  mis- 
understanding. There  is  an  inveterate  liability  to  confuse 
The  Con  a  symD0^ze(i  relation  with  a  relation  of  symbols, 
fusion  between  It  is  commonly  supposed  that  when  a  complex 
<J  Vnabois1"  *s  rePresented  by  a  formula,  the  elements  of  the 
and  the  complex  must  have  the  same  relation  as  that 

s 'mboiized  w^c^  subsists  between  the  parts  of  the  formula ; 
whereas,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  formula  as  a 
whole  represents  or  describes  a  complex  other  than  itself. 
If  I  describe  a  as  "to  the  right  of  b,"  does  any  difficulty 
arise  because  in  my  formula  a  is  to  the  left  of  b?  If  I  speak 
of  a  as  greater  than  b,  am  I  to  assume  that  because  my 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          233 

symbols  are  outside  one  another  that  a  and  b  must  be  out- 
side one  another?  Such  a  supposition  would  imply  a  most 
naive  acceptance  of  that  very  "copy  theory  "  of  knowledge 
which  pragmatism  has  so  severely  condemned.  And  yet 
such  a  supposition  seems  everywhere  to  underly  the 
anti-intellectualist's  polemic.  The  intellect  is  described 
as  "substituting  for  the  interpenetration  of  the  real 
terms  the  juxtaposition  of  their  symbols";  as  though 
analysis  discovered  terms,  and  then  conferred  relations 
of  its  own.  Whereas,  as  James  himself  has  been  at 
much  pains  to  point  out,  terms  and  relations  have  the 
same  status.  Terms  are  found  in  relation,  and  may  be 
thus  described  without  any  more  artificiality,  without 
any  more  imposing  of  the  forms  of  the  mind  on  its  sub- 
ject matter,  than  is  involved  in  the  bare  mention  of  a 
single  term.1 

It  is  this  misunderstanding  which  underlies  the  anti- 
intellectualist's  contention  that  continuity  cannot  be 
described.  "For,"  says  James,  "you  cannot  make  con- 
tinuous being  out  of  discontinuities,  and  your  concepts  are 
discontinuous.  The  stages  into  which  you  analyze  a 
change  are  stales,  the  change  itself  goes  on  between  them. 
It  lies  along  their  intervals,  inhabits  what  your  definition 
fails  to  gather  up,  and  thus  eludes  conceptual  explanation 
altogether." 2  I  can  understand  this  argument  only  pro- 
vided the  author  assumes  that  the  intellectualist  tries  to 
explain  continuity  by  adding  concept  to  concept.  The  suc- 
cessive and  discontinuous  acts  of  conceiving  are  then  held  to 
be  contrary  to  the  continuity  of  the  subject  matter.  But 
the  assumption  is  incorrect.  A  line,  if  or  example,  may 
be  conceived  as  a  class  of  positions  possessing  inter- 
relations of  direction  and  distance.  This  conception  may 
be  represented  by  the  formula,  a.  .  .  b.  .  .  c.  .  .  n.  .  .  .  One 
may  then  add  the  statement  that  between  any  two  posi- 

1  Bergson:  Time  and  Free  Will,  trans,  by  F.  L.  Pogson,  of  Les  donnfes 
immidiates  de  la  conscience,  p.  134;  James:  A  Pluralistic  Universe,  Ap- 
pendix A. 

*  James:   op.  cit.,  p.  336. 


234        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

tions  such  as  a  and  c,  there  is  a  third  position  b,  which  is 
after  a  and  before  c;  thus  expressly  denying  that  there  is 
the  same  hiatus  between ,  the  positions  of  the  line  as 
between  the  symbols  of  the  representation.  The  use  of 
the  symbols,  a,  c,  etc.,  indicates  the  manifoldness  and 
serial  order  of  the  positions,  and  the  statement  defines 
their '  compactness.' l  With  such  a  formula  and  such  a 
statement,  one  may  mean  continuity,  despite  the  fact  that 
the  symbols  and  words  are  discrete.  The  word  '  blue ' 
may  mean  blue,  although  the  word  is  not  blue.  Similarly, 
continuity  may  be  an  arrangement  meant  by  a  discon- 
tinuous arrangement  of  words  and  symbols. 

§  8.  In  the  third  place,  the  anti-intellectualist  polemic 
is  based  upon  the  misconception  that  whenever  concepts 
TheSuppo-  are  used  they  must  be  used  "  privatively,"  in 
sition  that  James's  sense.  In  other  words,  it  is  taken  for 
Necessarily"  granted  that  all  intellectualism  must  be 
Privative  "vicious,"  or  blind  to  its  own  abstractness. 
James,  as  we  have  seen,  distinguishes  this  view  as  one 
variety  of  intellectualism.  To  conceive  a  thing  as  <z,  and 
then  assume  that  it  is  only  a,  is  to  be  "viciously" 
intellectual. 2 

But  it  is  evident  that  provided  one  recognizes  that  to 
be  a  does  not  prevent  a  thing's  being  also  b,  c,  etc.,  one  may 
be  innocently  or  even  beneficently  intellectual.  And  this 
possibility,  Bergson,  at  any  rate,  appears  to  overlook. 
Thus  he  constantly  argues  as  though  the  use  of  the  relational 
logic  involved  the  reduction  of  everything  to  it.  The  analyti- 
cal method  does  imply  that  reality  consists  of  terms  and 
relations.  It  does  not,  however,  imply  that  this  bare  term- 
and-relation  character  is  all  there  is  to  it.  Thus,  blue  is 
different  from  red,  which  is  a  case  of  tl  (R)  P.  But  in  the 
concrete  case,  the  bare  logical  term-character  /  is  united 
first  with  one  quality  and  then  with  another;  while  R  is 
not  merely  relation  in  general  but  the  specific  relation  of 

1  Cf.  Russell:  Principles  of  Mathematics,  p.  296. 
1  See  above,  pp.  228-229. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          235 

'  difference.'  And  similarly  the  formulas  of  mathematics, 
mechanics,  physics,  etc.,  while  they  are  cases  of  logical 
systems,  have  each  their  special  superadded  and  distin- 
guishing characters. 

The  abstract  logical  system  is  non-temporal;  but  a 
temporal  system  may  nevertheless  be  a  case  of  a  logical 
system,  provided  the  time  character  be  introduced.  Hence 
it  is  absurd  to  say,  as  Bergson  says,  that  "when  the 
mathematician  calculates  the  future  state  of  a  system  at 
the  end  of  a  time  t,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him  from 
supposing  that  the  universe  vanishes  from  this  moment 
till  that,  and  suddenly  reappears.  It  is  the  /-th  moment 
only  that  counts  —  and  that  will  be  a  mere  instant.  What 
will  flow  on  in  the  interval,  that  is  to  say,  real  time,  does 
not  count,  and  cannot  enter  into  the  calculation."  1  I  can 
make  nothing  of  this  unless  the  author  is  regarding  /  merely 
as  a  number.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  t  is  a  number  of 
units  of  time,  hence  an  interval,  or  extended  flow;  and 
multiplying  this  factor  into  the  formula  means  that  the 
whole  process  has  continued  through  that  interval  —  it 
means  that  the  lapse  of  time  is  counted,  is  expressly 
brought  into  the  calculation. 

Or,  consider  the  same  author's  contention  that  to  con- 
ceive time  is  to  spacialize  it.  Again  he  is  misled  by  sup- 
posing that  because  time  is  conceived  as  orderly,  it  is 
therefore  nothing  but  order.  Such  an  intellectualism 
would  indeed  be  vicious.  Bare  logical  order  is  static; 
and  can  never  of  itself  express  time.  But  it  is  an  utterly 
different  matter  to  regard  time,  like  space  and  number,  as 
a  case  of  order,  having  the  specific  time  quale  over  and  above 
the  properties  of  order.  'Position,'  'interval,'  'before' 
and  'after,'  are  then  to  be  taken  in  the  temporal  sense; 
and  the  terms  of  the  series  are  to  be  taken,  not  as  bare 
logical  terms,  still  less  as  spacial  points,  but  as  instants 
possessing  a  unique  time-character  of  their  own. 

1  Creative  Evolution,  p.  22.  For  a  fuller  discussion  of  Bergson's  theory 
of  time,  cf.  below,  pp.  255-261. 


236       PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

§  9.  Radical  anti-intellectualism  betrays,  in  short,  a 
misapprehension  of  the  analytical  method.  This  method 
TheMisunder-  means  simply  the  discrimination  and  specifica- 
standing  Con-  tion  of  the  detail  of  experience.  It  has  led  to 
ceming  Analysis  ^  ^scovery  of  certain  elements  and  rela- 
tionships that  possess  a  remarkably  high  degree  of  gener- 
ality, such,  e.g.,  as  those  of  logic  and  mathematics.  But 
while  these  elements  and  relationships,  because  of  their 
generality,  serve  to  make  things  commensurable  on  a 
comprehensive  scale,  and  are  consequently  of  a  peculiar 
importance  in  knowledge,  it  does  not  follow  that  intellectu- 
alism  aims  to  abolish  everything  else.  That  which  has 
logical  form  is  not  pure  form. 

Furthermore,  it  is  entirely  incorrect  to  suppose  that 
analysis  imposes  the  relational  and  orderly  arrangement 
regardless  of  the  subject  matter.  The  analytical  method 
is  neither  an  accident  nor  a  prejudice.  It  arises  from  the 
fact  that  the  subject  matter  with  which  science  and  philoso- 
phy deal  is  complex.  And  this  is  virtually  admitted  in 
every  reference  to  it  which  anti-intellectualistic  writers 
make.  'Continuity,'  'duration,'  'activity'  and  'life' 
present,  even  in  the  most  immediate  experience  of  them 
which  it  is  possible  to  obtain,  an  unmistakable  multiplicity 
of  character.  They  may  be  divided,  and  their  several  char- 
acters abstracted  and  named  in  turn;  and  simply  because 
they  contain  variety.  The  anti-intellectualist  is  apparently 
ready  to  admit  their  multiplicity,  but  balks  at  admitting 
their  "distinct  multiplicity."1  But  "distinctness"  and 
"indistinctness"  are  psychological  and  not  ontological 
differences.  An  "indistinct  multiplicity"  is  simply  a 
multiplicity  that  is  as  yet  but  imperfectly  known  —  a 
distinct  multiplicity  qualified  by  an  incompleteness  of 
discrimination. 

Or  is  the  anti-intellectualist  troubled  by  the  considera- 
tion that  the  concepts  of  analysis  are  not  exact  enough; 
that  they  over-simplify  nature  by  trying  to  express  it  in 

1  Bergson:  op.  cit.,  p.  xiv. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          237 

terms  of  a  few  broad  types?  Thus  it  may  be  contended 
that  the  boundaries  of  bodies  are  never  absolutely  straight 
or  circular,  or  that  no  orbit  is  perfectly  elliptical.  But 
note  what  this  criticism  implies.  It  is  based  either  on  the 
fact  that  there  is  a  sensible  discrepancy  between  the  form 
attributed  to  natural  bodies  in  exact  science,  and  the  actual 
form  of  these  bodies;  or  on  the  presumption  that  such  a 
discrepancy  would  appear  were  our  methods  of  study  to 
be  improved.  In  either  case,  the  discrepancy  in  question 
is  an  analytical  discrepancy,  a  difference  of  the  same 
definite  character  as  the  terms  compared.  If  natural 
boundaries  or  orbits  are  not  of  a  relatively  simple  geometri- 
cal character,  then  it  must  be  because  they  are  of  a  more 
complex  geometrical  character;  if  not  a  straight,  then  a 
broken  line,  if  not  circular  or  elliptical,  then  curved  in  some 
other  way.  Such  considerations  as  these,  therefore,  do 
not  tell  in  the  least  against  the  analytical  method,  or  cast 
doubt  on  the  relational  structure  of  reality. 

§  10.  But  anti-intellectualism  is  involved  in  a  more 
serious  error.  Not  only  does  it  misunderstand  the  view 
which  it  attacks;  but  it  puts  forth  a  claim  of  its  own 
which  is  unfounded,  the  claim,  namely,  to  the 
Superiority  of  immediate  apprehension  of  a  fused  and  inarticu- 
the  immediacy  late  unity.  It  exploits  the  common  error  of 
'pseudo-simplicity.'  This  error  consists,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  projecting  a  verbal  or  subjective 
simplicity  into  the  object.  The  single  word  'life/  e.g., 
is  used  to  refer  to  the  complex  thing,  life.  It  is  then  as- 
sumed that  behind  the  various  characters  of  life,  or  infusing 
them,  there  must  be  a  corresponding  unity.  Or,  at  the 
outset  of  inquiry,  life  is  a  problematic  unity,  a  bare  that, 
a  something  to  be  known;  and  it  is  assumed  that  this 
simple  quote,  this  merging  of  elements,  not-yet-but-to- 
be-distinguished,  must  somehow  be  among  the  elements 
themselves. 

There  are  two  ways  of  unifying  experience.     One  way  is 
to  carry  analysis  through,  and  discover  the  connections  of 


238        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

the  parts,  and  the  articulate  structure  of  the  whole.  The 
other  is  to  reverse  the  operation,  to  cany  it  back  to  its 
vanishing  point  —  to  the  bare  word  or  the  bare  feeling  of 
attention.  In  the  second  case  the  experience  is  simplified 
—  by  the  disappearance  of  the  object!  A  perfect  simplic- 
ity, an  ineffable  unity,  is  attained  at  the  point  where  the 
object  drops  out  altogether.  But  then  knowledge  has 
ceased;  and  the  experience,  what  there  is  of  it,  is  of  no 
cognitive  significance  whatsoever. 

Thus  Bergson  says:  "The  more  we  succeed  in  making  our- 
selves conscious  of  our  progress  in  pure  duration,  the  more 
we  feel  the  different  parts  of  our  being  enter  into  each  other, 
and  our  whole  personality  concentrate  itself  in  a  point."  l 
What  Bergson  is  here  describing  is,  I  am  convinced,  the 
disappearance  of  cognition  into  an  experience  which  is 
not  an  experience  of  anything  at  all.  Such  a  unification 
may  be  obtained  by  falling  asleep,  or  by  auto-hypnosis. 
It  throws  no  light  whatever  on  the  nature  of  anything. 
My  experience  of  life  has  dissolved;  but  nothing  follows 
concerning  the  nature  of  life.  I  have  simply  closed  my 
eyes  to  it.  I  have  blurred  and  blotted  out  my  knowledge 
of  life;  but  life  is  not  therefore  blurred  or  extinct.  In 
the  twilight  all  things  are  gray;  in  ignorance  all  things  are 
simple.  Bergson  speaks  of  the  "feeling  of  duration," 
as  "the  actual  coinciding  of  ourself  with  it";  and  this, 
he  says,  admits  of  degrees.  But  I  am  not  more  alive  when 
I  feel  duration  than  I  was  before  when  I  thought  it.  The 
difference  is  that,  whereas  I  formerly  knew  duration,  or 
something  of  it,  now  I  know  comparatively  nothing;  I 
simply  ant  duration.  Duration  itself  is  neither  more  nor 
less  complex  than  it  was  before;  my  knowledge  only  has 
been  simplified  —  to  the  point  of  disappearance.  Bergson 
speaks  of  an  instinctive  sympathy  which,  if  it  "could 
extend  its  object  and  also  reflect  upon  itself,"  "would  give 
us  the  key  to  vital  operations."2  But  I  believe  that  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  in  proportion  as  there  is  reflection 

1  Creative  Evolution,  p.  201.  *  Ibid.,  pp.  200, 176. 


IMMEDIATISM    VS.    INTELLECTUALISM  239 

upon  instinct,  its  complexity  is  manifest;  and  that  in 
proportion  as  instinct  is  simple  it  has  escaped  experi- 
ence altogether,  and  is,  so  far  as  cognition  is  concerned  — 
nothing. 

§  ii.  The  pragmatist  critique  of  intellectualism,  like 
the  pragmatist  theory  of  truth,  tends  to  assume  one  or  the 
TheSubjectivis.  other  of  two  forms.  Using  Dewey's  term 
tic  Version  of  "immediatism  "  to  express  this  pragmatist  doc- 
trine positively  rather  than  negatively,  we 
may  say  that  there  is  a  subjectivistic  or  idealistic  version, 
and  a  realistic  version,  of  immediatism. 

The  crucial  issue  upon  which  the  idealistic  and  realistic 
versions  of  immediatism  divide  is  whether  the  activity  of 
the  intellect  is  creative  or  selective.  Does  the  intellect 
generate  concepts,  or  does  it  discover  them?  If  we  are  to 
judge  from  the  Creative  Evolution,  Bergson  regards  the 
intellect  as  an  artificer.  In  other  words,  ideas,  things,  and 
objects  express,  not  the  environment,  but  the  agent.  It 
is  by  no  means  clear  that  this  is  consistent  with  the 
Bergson  view,  that  intellect  is  a  means  of  adaptation. 
"If,"  as  he  himself  says,  "the  intellectual  form  of  the 
living  being  has  been  gradually  modelled  on  the  reciprocal 
actions  and  reactions  of  certain  bodies  and  their  material 
environment,  how  should  it  not  reveal  to  us  something  of 
the  very  essence  of  which  these  bodies  are  made?"  But 
this  query  does  not  prevent  Bergson  from  deriving  "in- 
tellectual form "  from  the  intellect  itself.  The  origin  of  it 
is  to  be  looked  for  "in  the  structure  of  our  intellect,  which 
is  formed  to  act  on  matter  from  without,  and  which  suc- 
ceeds by  making,  in  the  flux  of  the  real,  instantaneous 
cuts,  each  of  which  becomes,  in  its  fixity,  endlessly  decom- 
posable. .  .  .  This  complexity  is  the  work  of  tlie  understand- 
ing" l  In  other  words,  the  relational  texture,  the  grain  of 
things,  is  generated  by  intellect.  Given  matter,  not-yet- 
intellectualized,  is  pure  flux,  in  its  own  substance  as 
simple,  smooth,  and  undivided  as  the  life  which  acts  on 
1  Ibid.,  Introduction,  p.  xi,  p.  250  (italics  mine). 


240        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

it  —  the  life  of  which  it  is  but  the  "inverse"  movement. 
According  to  this  view,  then,  to  conceive  is  to  bring  about 
the  existence  of  that  which  is  called  concept.  Conceptual 
discreteness  is  the  derivative  of  the  pure  activity  of  intel- 
lect, and  is  in  no  sense  contained  in  that  upon  which 
intellect  operates. 

§  12.  According  to' the  realistic  version  of  immediatism, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  intellect  discovers,  but  does  not 
The  Realistic  make,  concepts.  This  is  the  view  that  is  on 
Version  of  the  whole  consistently  maintained  by  James, 
mm  latism  Concepts  are  not  merely  functions  of  the  intel- 
lect, they  constitute  a  "coordinate  realm"  of  reality.  "If 
we  take  the  world  of  geometrical  relations,  the  thousandth 
decimal  of  IT  sleeps  there,  tho'  no  one  may  even  try  to 
compute  it."  "Philosophy  must  thus  recognize  many 
realms  of  reality  which  mutually  interpenetrate.  The 
conceptual  systems  of  mathematics,  logic,  aesthetics,  ethics, 
are  such  realms,  each  strung  upon  some  peculiar  form  of 
relation,  and  each  differing  from  perceptual  reality  in  that 
in  no  one  of  them  is  history  or  happening  displayed.  Per- 
ceptual reality  involves  and  contains  all  these  ideal  systems 
and  vastly  more  besides."  1  The  crux  of  the  matter  lies 
in  this  last  statement.  Reality  is  not  other  than  the 
conceptual  order,  but  more  than  the  conceptual  order. 
Intellect  is  an  organ,  not  of  fabrication,  but  of  "dis- 
cernment," a  power  men  have  "to  single  out  the  most 
fugitive  elements  of  what  passes  before  them  .  .  .  aspect 
within  aspect,  quality  after  quality,  relation  upon 
relation."  2 

When  thus  construed,  pragmatism's  account  of  intellect 
is  consistent  with  its  general  naturalistic  grounds.  Con- 
cepts work,  because  the  environment  is  presented  and 
displayed  in  them.  Since  nature  has  logical  and  mathe- 
matical properties,  it  is  expedient  to  act  as  tho'  it  had; 

1  James:  Meaning  of  Truth,  pp.  42  (note),  203;  Some  Problems  of 
Philosophy,  pp.  101-102  (italics  mine).  Cf.  also  op.  cit.,  p.  56;  Pluralistic 
Universe,  pp.  339-340  (note). 

*  James:  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy,  pp.  51,52. 


IMMEDIATISM   VS.    INTELLECTUALISM          241 

while  an  intellect  that  was  fatally  predestined  to  falsify 
the  environment  would  be  as  misleading  to  action  as  it 
would  be  inherently  arbitrary  and  meaningless.  And 
this  realistic  version  of  concepts  is  entirely  consistent  with 
a  censure  of  their  blind  and  uncritical  use.  Because 
nature  is  logical  and  mathematical,  it  does  not  follow  that 
it  is  merely  logical  and  mathematical.  Such  an  intellec- 
tualism  is  vicious  indeed.  The  abstracting  of  some  char- 
acters of  reality  is  beset  by  a  characteristic  danger,  the 
danger  of  ignoring  the  rest.  This  follows  from  the  fact 
that  intellect  is  selective;  it  in  no  way  implies  that  intellect 
is  creative. 

It  is  also  true  that  in  a  sense  the  perceptual  world  is 
richer  than  the  conceptual,  since  the  latter  is  abstracted 
from  it,  leaving  a  residuum  behind.  James,  it  is  true, 
goes  further  than  this,  and  contends,  with  Bergson,  that 
there  are  some  properties  of  reality,  the  dynamic  or 
temporal  properties,  which  cannot  be  conceived.  But  this 
is  due,  I  think,  to  a  misunderstanding.1  If  to  conceive 
is  not  to  alter,  but  only  to  distinguish,  then  conceiving  is 
not  contrary  to  any  property;  to  mention  a  property  with 
a  view  to  showing  its  inconceivability  is  to  conceive  it. 
And  all  properties  stand  on  the  same  footing  with  reference 
to  the  function  of  mediation.  All  may  be  known  mediately; 
but  to  know  them  mediately  is  only  an  indirect  way  of 
knowing  them  immediately.  This  is  as  true  of  a  mathe- 
matical triangle,  which  is  mediately  known  by  means  of 
these  words,  as  of  color,  life,  or  anything  else. 

When  corrected  in  the  light  of  these  considerations,  the 
realistic  anti-intellectualism  of  James  escapes  the  verbalism 
and  abstractionism  of  "vicious  intellectualism,"  without 
that  discrediting  of  analysis  and  lapse  into  uncritical  intui- 
tionism — that  dissolution  of  order  into  chaos,  which  marks 
an  even  more  vicious  immediatism. 

1  Ibid.,  pp.  8x,  104;  cf.  above,  pp.  231  ff. 


CHAPTER  XI 

PLURALISM,  INDETERMINISM  AND  RELIGIOUS 
FAITH 

§  i.  WITH  pragmatism  as  a  theory  of  knowledge  —  a 
definition  of  truth,  and  a  critique  of  intellectualism,  there 
Pluralism  as  *s  alued  a  more  or  less  clearly  defined  meta- 
the  Sequel  to  physics.  While  this  metaphysics  is  by  no 
The^AddiS've  means  systematic,  it  is  distinct  and  charac- 
Character  of  teristic  enough  to  afford  an  interpretation  of 
Knowledge  j^  an(j  eyen  a  reijgion  Since  pragmatism, 

like  idealism  and  realism,  is  primarily  a  theory  of  knowl- 
edge, and  a  metaphysics  only  by  implication,  we  shall  do 
well  to  follow  this  logical  order  in  our  exposition. 

As  furnishing  the  basis  for  a  metaphysics  and  philosophy 
of  religion,  pragmatism  may  best  be  summed  up  by  the 
term  'empiricism.'  Pragmatism  is  empirical,  in  the  first 
place,  in  that  it  limits  the  term  '  knowledge'  to  the  particu- 
lar cases  of  human  knowledge  that  may  be  brought  under 
observation.  Its  theory  of  knowledge  is  a  description  of 
the  manner  in  which  you  and  I  know,  in  this  or  that  con- 
crete situation.  This  is  both  the  only  knowledge  which 
can  profitably  be  in  question,  since  it  is  the  only  knowl- 
edge that  can  be  examined;  and  also  the  only  knowledge 
on  which  we  can  count.  Every  theory  that  may  be  held 
is  some  particular  body's  particular  theory.  Even  a 
theory  concerning  infinite  or  divine  knowledge  is  first  of 
all  your  theory  or  mine.  And  it  follows  that  unless  human 
knowledge  is  to  be  credited,  we  must  be  sceptics.  In  other 
words,  if  we  exclude  the  sceptical  alternative,  and  say  that 
we  mean  nothing  more  by  knowledge  than  the  most  reliable 
knowledge  available,  then  we  must  identify  knowledge 
with  human  knowledge.  Such  is  knowledge  —  for  better 
242 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH       243 

or  for  worse.  No  hypothetical  knowledge  can  be  more 
infallible  or  more  certain  than  the  processes  of  that  human 
mind  which  defines,  proves,  and  believes  it.  It  follows 
that  it  is  possible  to  know,  as  fully  as  it  is  possible  to  know 
at  all,  a  limited  portion  of  reality.  If  one  were  to  assert 
that  it  is  impossible  fully  to  know  anything  without 
knowing  everything  —  then  that  assertion  itself  would  be 
discredited.  It  is  itself  a  case  of  partial  knowledge  and  is 
entitled  to  no  special  privileges. 

Now  if  it  is  possible  to  know  parts  of  reality  without 
knowing  all,  it  follows  that  such  parts  of  reality  are  self- 
sufficient.  If  knowledge  can  be  additive,  if  things  can  be 
known  one  at  a  time,  then  the  things  known  must  possess 
their  natures  independently.  Thus  one  can  know  the 
laws  of  number,  without  knowing  the  date  of  Napoleon's 
birth.  The  latter  knowledge,  when  obtained,  is  simply  to 
be  added  to  the  former  without  modifying  it.  But  this  is 
equivalent  to  saying  that  Napoleon's  birth  is  not  a  part 
of  the  nature  of  number.  It  is  not  asserted  that  one  is 
not  related  to  the  other,  but  only  that  it  is  not  germane, 
does  not  enter  into  its  definition.  And  this,  when  general- 
ized, is  what  is  meant  by  pluralism.  According  to  the 
opposite,  or  monistic,  view,  the  ^//-relationship,  the  relation 
of  each  to  all,  is  definitive;  according  to  pluralism  it  is 
accidental.  According  to  monism  the  universal  interrela- 
tionship determines  the  essential  nature  of  every  item  of 
being;  according  to  pluralism  certain  limited  relations 
sufficiently  determine  the  nature  of  each  thing,  the  residual 
relations  being  superfluous  and  unnecessary.  According 
to  monism  the  totality  is  more  unified  than  the  parts; 
according  to  pluralism  the  parts  severally  are  more  unified 
than  the  totality.1 

Pragmatism  thus  credits  finite  knowledge,  and  asserts 
that  knowledge  grows  from  part  to  whole.  Knowledge 
is  cumulative;  omniscience  would  be  a  sum  of  knowledge, 

1  For  pragmatist  definitions  of  pluralism,  see  James:  Pragmatism, 
Lect.  IV.  On  the  "monistic  theory  of  truth,"  cf.  below,  p.  323. 


244       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

a  knowledge  of  a  and  b,  in  which  the  knowledge  of  a  and  b 
severally  is  prior  to  the  knowledge  of  them  together.  And 
pragmatism  infers  that  a  universe  in  which  this  is  possible 
is  a  universe  in  which  there  is  at  least  some  irrelevance  or 
casual  conjunction. 

§  2.  But  the  empirical  method  contributes  more  direct 

evidence  for  pluralism  in  that  such  casual  conjunctions 

Pluralism  and     are  actually  perceived.    James,  in  particular, 

External  Reia-    has    emphasized    the  existence  of    'external' 

relations.1 

Rationalism  singles  out  and  emphasizes  the  relations 
of  logical  implication  and  organic  unity.  Such  relations 
are  not  to  be  denied;  and  it  is  in  the  interest  of  knowledge 
to  discover  them  wherever  they  can  be  found.  Indeed, 
the  discovery  of  such  relations  may  even  be  said  to  be  the 
principal  motive  of  thought.  But  a  thorough-going 
empiricism  will  admit  that  such  relations  are  never  found 
except  in  the  company  of  other  relations.  "Everything 
you  can  think  of,"  says  James,  "however  vast  or  inclu- 
sive, has  on  the  pluralistic  view  a  genuinely  'external* 
environment  of  some  sort  or  amount.  Things  are  'with' 
one  another  in  many  ways,  but  nothing  includes  every- 
thing, or  dominates  over  everything.  The  word  'and' 
trails  along  after  every  sentence." 2  In  other  words,  internal 
definitive  relationships  are  discriminated  from  casual 
relationships.  Science  distinguishes  in  connection  with 
any  subject  of  inquiry  those  things  which  are  necessarily 
or  functionally  related,  and  which  must  therefore  enter 
into  the  explanation,  from  those  things  which  are  there, 
and  in  some  sense  related,  but  which  are  negligible.  Every 
definition,  every  determinate  system,  is  obtained  by  exclu- 
sion as  well  as  inclusion.  The  skilful  scientific  mind  is  the 
mind  that  readily  fastens  upon  that  which  is  germane, 
to  the  exclusion  of  that  which  is  irrelevant.  And  empiri- 
cism is  simply  the  willingness  to  accept  facts,  whether  they 

1  Cf.,  e.g.,  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  321-326,  358-361.    Cf.  below,  p.  372. 
1  Op.  cit.,  p.  321. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH     245 

be  conjunctive  or  disjunctive.  It  recognizes  behind  the 
intellectual  preference  for  unity,  the  more  fundamental 
cognitive  demand  that  things  should  be  taken  as  they  are 
—  whether  they  satisfy  that  preference  or  disappoint  it. 

Empirically,  then,  the  world  is  a  mixture  of  oneness  and 
manyness,  of  relevance  and  irrelevance,  of  disjunction  and 
conjunction,  of  essence  and  accident.  On  empirical 
grounds  no  other  account  is  even  plausible.  And  this  has 
virtually  been  recognized  even  by  the  opponents  of  plural- 
ism. Monism  has  not  been  offered  as  a  faithful  description 
of  the  world,  judging  by  appearances,  but  as  a  necessary 
ideal  that  must  be  affirmed  of  the  world  despite  appearances. 
The  issue  then  turns  upon  the  considerations  already  set 
forth  in  the  discussion  of  absolutism.1  Is  the  absolute 
world-system  a  definite  ideal;  and  can  it  be  shown  to  be 
implied  in  the  act  of  knowledge,  so  that  to  doubt  it  is  to 
affirm  it?  Pragmatism  concludes,  as  we  have  been  led  to 
conclude  above,  that  such  a  system  is  not  only  a  dogma, 
but  a  vague  dogma.  As  a  sentiment  it  is  intelligible; 
but  as  a  hypothesis  it  is  not  only  unverified  but  unverifi- 
able.  Owing  to  the  extreme  abstractness  of  the  terms  in 
which  it  is  formulated,  in  so  far  as  it  is  formulated  at  all, 
no  crucial  experiment  can  be  devised  which  would  decisively 
determine  its  truth  or  its  falsity.  Unformulated,  it  is  a 
feeling  for  unity,  a  love  of  order,  a  "cosmic  emotion." 
Thus  'the  absolute'  is  either  a  superficial  commonplace, 
to  the  effect  that  the  world  is  one  and  interrelated,  and 
is  what  it  is;  or  a  symbol  of  mystical  reverence. 

To  find  the  native  and  distinguishing  characters  of  this 
world,  one  must  turn  away  from  logical  and  mystical 
unities,  and  observe  it  in  its  characteristic  physiognomy. 
It  is  a  world  that  cannot  be  summed  up  in  superlatives, 
without  oversimplification  or  confusion.  It  has  unity,  but 
also  variety;  it  is  orderly,  but  only  in  a  measure;  it  is 
good,  but  also  in  parts  bad  and  indifferent.  For  better 
or  for  worse,  it  is  just  this  homely,  familiar  old  world, 

1  See  above,  Ch.  VIII. 


246        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

with  some  rhyme  and  some  reason  in  it,  but  with  much 
that  is  arbitrary  and  inconsequential.  Such  opportunity 
and  hopefulness  as  it  affords  are  limited;  but  they  cannot 
be  enjoyed  more  by  exaggerating  them.  The  rational  life 
and  true  religion  begin,  as  the  natural  life  begins,  not  by 
taking  the  world  to  be  the  best,  but  by  taking  it  as  it  is, 
and  making  the  best  of  it. 

§3.  It  is  evident  that  pluralism  is  readily  convertible 
into  a  philosophy  of  religion.  As  a  Weltanschauung,  it 
Pluralism  as  a  ev°kes  a  characteristic  practical  response  and 
Philosophy  of  inspires  a  characteristic  faith. 

In  the  first  place,  it  applies  directly  to  the 
problem  of  evil.  On  monistic  grounds,  the  world  must  be 
approved  or  condemned  as  a  unit.  It  is  what  it  is,  through 
and  through;  every  characteristic  that  it  manifests  is  impli- 
cated in  every  other  characteristic.  The  meaning  of  the 
part  must  be  sought  in  the  whole.  Such  a  theory  overrules 
that  empirical  estimate  of  nature  and  of  affairs  which  is 
the  guide  to  action.  The  difference  between  goodness,  evil, 
and  indifference,  which  practice  sharpens,  is,  in  this  type 
of  theory,  dulled.  In  a  monistic  philosophy  real  goodness 
is  such  as  implies  evil;  real  evil  such  as  implies  good;  and 
real  value  and  real  indifference  are  reciprocally  implicative. 
In  other  words,  the  real  nature  of  ^  each  is  revealed  in  its 
connection  with  the  others.  In  practice,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  real  nature  of  each  is  intrinsic,  the  relation  to 
the  rest  being  accidental,  circumstantial,  or  derogatory. 

And  this  practical  version  of  the  matter  constitutes  the 
pluralistic  philosophy  of  evil.  It  is  not  denied  that  good, 
evil,  and  indifference  are  related.  It  is  not  denied  that 
value  may  come  of  indifference,  or  even  good  of  evil.  But 
it  is  denied  such  relations  define  and  explain  the  terms. 
It  is  denied  that  value  must  be  so  defined  as  to  embrace 
indifference,  or  good  so  denned  as  to  provide  for  evil. 
Hence  goodness  is  not  to  be  charged  with  or  judged  by  the 
evil  that  attends  it.  The  pure  nature  of  goodness  is  appre- 
hended in  proportion  as  evil  is  left  out  of  the  account. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      247 

An  account  of  goodness  with  evil  left  out  would  not,  it  is 
true,  be  adequate  to  life;  but  it  would  be  adequate  to  good- 
ness. The  mixture  of  the  two  —  temptation  and  struggle, 
calamity  and  discipline,  sin  and  repentance,  is  true  to  the 
historical  drama  of  existence;  but  the  nature  of  goodness 
itself  is  only  confused  by  the  admixture  of  its  opposite. 

The  supposition  that  goodness  must  be  defined  in  terms 
of  life,  and  life  in  terms  of  the  universal  reality,  has  no  sup- 
port, save  the  monistic  dogma.  It  rests  on  the  more  funda- 
mental presupposition  that  the  whole  context  must  enter 
into  the  definition  of  each  thing.  Because  goodness  is 
opposed  to  evil  and  indifference,  because  the  achievement 
of  goodness  is  in  certain  cases  conditioned  by  evil  and 
indifference  —  it  is  inferred  that  goodness  must  consist 
in  these.  It  may  even  be  urged  that  because  the  pragma- 
tist  glorifies  the  humanization  of  nature  and  the  victorious 
battle  with  evil,  he  is  therefore  a  good  monist;  having 
reduced  nature  to  humanity  and  good  to  evil.1  Nothing 
could  more  unmistakably  betray  the  monistic  bias.  To 
a  mind  habituated  to  monism,  it  is  inconceivable  that  a 
thing  should  have  any  relation  whatsoever  to  the  subject 
of  discourse,  or  should  even  be  mentionable  in  the  same 
connection,  without  entering  into  its  definition  and  expla- 
nation. But  does  it  follow  that  because  nature  can  be 
humanized,  this  sequel  is  the  secret  of  its  existence;  or 
that  because  a  virtue  can  be  made  of  necessity,  that  the 
necessity  arose  in  order  to  be  made  a  virtue  of?  It  would 
be  as  reasonable  to  account  for  gold  in  terms  of  dollars; 
or  to  argue  that  because  a  man  may  be  lifted  from  the  mire, 
therefore  mire  is  essentially  that  from  which  a  man  may  be 
lifted,  and  hence  a  condition  of  the  higher  life. 

Now  it  is  this  difference,  which  is  so  easily  confused, 
and  which  may  seem  so  slight  as  to  be  negligible,  that 
nevertheless  eventually  brings  pragmatism  and  monistic 

1  It  is  in  this  sense  that  "Religious  Idealism  regards  Pragmatism  as 
an  Idealism  in  the  Making."  Cf.  W.  R.  Boyce  Gibson,  God  With  Us, 
p.  189;  and  Ch.  X,  passim. 


248        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

idealism  into  flat  opposition.  For  pragmatism,  the  good 
is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  related  to  evil,  but  is  not  necessarily 
so;  it  does  not  derive  its  meaning  from  the  relation.  For 
a  monistic  idealism,  the  circumstance  of  evil  is  essential  to 
good.  And  no  two  religions  could  be  more  discordant,  more 
incommensurable,  than  those  which  spring  from  these 
two  theories.  From  the  one  springs  the  practical  optimism, 
or  meliorism,  which  stakes  its  hope  on  the  chance  that 
the  world  may  be  made  better;  from  the  other  springs  the 
contemplative  or  quietistic  optimism,  which  consists  in 
the  faith  that  the  world  is  best.  For  the  former  the  reali- 
zation of  goodness  is  a  future  contingency;  for  the  latter 
it  is  the  eternal  and  necessary  reality.  For  pragmatism 
the  perfecting  of  the  world  is  by  elimination,  there  must 
be  "real  losses  and  real  losers";  for  a  monistic  idealism 
the  perfection  of  the  world  lies  in  its  all-preserving  totality. 
For  pragmatism,  "evil  is  that  which  resists  the  evolution 
of  the  world,  and  fights  a  losing  battle  against  the  tendencies 
of  things";  for  a  monistic  idealism  evil  is  a  flavor  to  the 
sauce,  or  a  r61e  in  the  drama,  which,  though  it  is  subordi- 
nate, cannot  be  dispensed  with.1 

The  contrast  appears  finally  and  most  vividly  in  the 
corresponding  conceptions  of  God.  For  pragmatism,  God 
is  a  part  and  not  the  whole.  He  is  beneficent,  without  its 
being  necessary  to  judge  his  beneficence  by  all  the  works 
of  nature  and  life.  "As  God  is  not  all  things,  He  can  be 
an  'eternal  (i.e.  unceasing)  tendency  making  for  righteous- 
ness,' and  need  not  be,  as  on  all  other  theories  He  must  be, 
the  responsible  Author  of  evil."  2  In  short,  pragmatism 
justifies  the  ordinary  procedure  of  the  religious  conscious- 
ness. For  the  religious  consciousness  is  ordinarily  selective 
and  discriminating,  construing  God's  nature  in  terms  of 
goodness  in  the  specific  and  exclusive  sense,  and  proving 

1  James:  Pragmatism,  p.  296;  cf.  Lect.  VIII,  passim;  and  "The  Dilemma 
of  Determinism,"  and  "Is  Life  Worth  Living?"  in  The  Will  to  Believe; 
F.  C.  S.  Schiller:  Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,  third  edition,  p.  353.  For  the 
monistic  theory,  cf.  also  above,  p.  182. 

1  Schiller:  op.  cit.,  p.  350. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      249 

him  by  an  appeal  to  some,  but  not  all,  of  the  evidences  of 
reality.  In  a  monistic  religion,  on  the  other  hand,  God  is 
"All,"  and  his  goodness  must  be  interpreted  accordingly.1 
He  is  such  as  mechanical  nature,  and  evil,  as  well  as  the 
good  contrasted  with  these,  prove  him  to  be.  He  is  the 
universal  life,  the  promiscuous  totality  of  things,  exalted 
into  an  object  of  worship;  but  not,  as  Plato  would  have 
said,  without  disloyalty  to  the  moral  will.  For  it  is  not 
possible  in  the  long  run  to  reverence  one  thing  and  serve 
another.  And  a  worship  which  eulogizes  the  neutral  mid- 
world  of  'the  spiritual  life,'  of  'struggle,'  and  of  'victory,' 
and  erects  it  into  the  supreme  object  of  admiration  must, 
in  the  long  run,  convert  moral  effort  into  a  conscious 
pose,  and  its  Everlasting  No  into  stage  heroics. 

§  4.  Pragmatism  implies  pluralism,  and  this,  as  we  have 
seen,  affords  a  characteristic  version  of  evil  and  of  God. 
Indetenninism  But  pragmatists  are  not  only  pluralists;  ^they 
as  the  Sequel  are  also  indeterminists,  and  find  in  their  in- 
to Pluralism  Determinism  additional  ground  for  a  philosophy 
of  religion.  As  will  shortly  appear,  indetermmism  is  a 
more  ambiguous  and  doubtful  doctrine  than  pluralism, 
and  may  be  approached  in  several  ways. 

In  the  first  place,  indeterminism  may  be  regarded  simply 
as  an  aspect  of  pluralism.  The  latter  doctrine  emphasizes 
both  manyness  and  irrelevance;  indeterminism  singles  out 
and  emphasizes  irrelevance.  It  means  that  there  are 
relations  which  are  not  determinative;  that  there  are 
juxtapositions  of  things  and  events  which  are  actual  but 
not  necessary.  In  a  narrower  sense,  indeterminism  means 
that  human  individuals,  and  human  actions,  are  dis- 
junctively as  well  as  conjunctively  related  to  their  envi- 
ronment or  context.  There  is  something  in  a  man  or  in 
his  deed  that  is  not  deducible  from  anything  beyond.  It 
is  next  to  other  things,  along  with  them,  related  to  them  in 
many  ways,  but  without  following  from  them. 

This  is,  I  think,  the  meaning  of  James's  "genuine  possi- 

1  Cf.,  e.g.,  Boyce  Gibson,  op.  cit.,  Ch.  X. 


250        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

bilities."  1  It  is  primarily  a  denial  of  the  counter-thesis 
that  the  world  is  pervaded  by  implication.  There  are 
arbitrary  transitions  as  well  as  necessary  transitions.  In 
other  words,  there  are  situations  of  the  type  a  +  b  -f-  c, 
where  c  is  not  implied  in  a  +  b,  and  is  not  deducible  there- 
from. In  such  a  situation,  it  is  true  to  say  that  in  respect 
of  a  4-  b,  something  other  than  c,  such  as  d,  is  possible; 
or,  that  either  c  or  d  is  consistent  with  a  +  b.  After  the 
fact,  a  +  6  +  d  is  as  reasonable  as  a  +  b  +  c.  It  cannot 
be  said  that  either  c  or  d  is  exclusively  determined  by 
a  +  b;  although  it  may  be  said  that  some  more  general 
character,  m,  of  which  c  and  d  are  the  only  instances,  is 
thus  determined,  so  that  the  possibilities  are  confined  to 
c  and  d.  In  this  sense,  then,  multiple  possibility  follows 
from  pluralism. 

§  5.  Indeterminism  in  a  still  narrower  sense,  follows 
indetenninism  ^rom  tne  application  of  this  general  principle 
and  the  Reality  to  time.  In  discussing  the  relation  of  prag- 
matist  metaphysics  to  the  concept  of  time,  it 
is  important  to  make  a  distinction.  For  there  are  really 
two  issues  involved. 

In  the  first  place,  pragmatism,  like  naturalism,  like  all 
empirical  philosophies,  maintains  that  time  is  a  funda- 
mental property  of  existence.  Thus  pragmatism  is  op- 
posed to  all  theories  which  claim  to  deduce  time  from 
something  else;  for  example,  from  the  nescience  and  rela- 
tivity of  the  human  mind.  According  to  such  a  view,  the 
temporal  aspect  of  things  is  due  to  the  modification  of 
finite  subjectivity.  To  reach  truth  means  to  escape  this 
limitation  and  see  things  sub  specie  eternitatis.  Thus  accord- 
ing to  the  view  held  by  Parmenides,  Plato,  Spinoza,  and 
others,  time  is  unreal;  in  the  sense  that  it  is  one  of  the 
appearance-characters  which  reflective  knowledge  elimi- 
nates. Or  time  may  be  deduced  from  some  higher  logical 

1  Cf.  "The  Dilemma  of  Determinism,"  in  The  Will  to  Believe,  pp.  155, 
156;  Schiller:  Studies  in  Humanism,  p.  404;  Bergson:  Time  and  Free 
Will,  pp.  189-190. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      251 

or  ethical  category,  as  is  attempted  by  some  modern 
idealists.  In  this  case,  time  is  real,  but  only  so  far  as  it  is 
a  manifestation  of  some  higher  principle.  Sequence  is 
incidental  to  the  dialectic  of  thought,  or  to  moral  progress. 

Pragmatism,  on  the  other  hand,  insists  upon  the  original 
and  irreducible  character  of  time,  as  well  as  upon  its  pecul- 
iarly important  part  in  existence.  Time  is  more,  and  not 
less,  original  than  dialectic  and  progress,  since  the  latter 
contain  the  specific  characters  of  sequence  and  change, 
and  add  further  characters  to  them.  And  existence  is  the 
manifold  that  is  in  time,  whether  it  exhibits  these  other 
characters  or  not.  So  that  instead  of  saying  that  existence 
is  a  dialectical  or  ethical  unity,  embracing  temporality,  one 
must  say  that  existence  is  the  series  of  temporal  events, 
with  whatever  of  dialectical  or  ethical  unity  may  happen 
also  to  be  added.  This,  then,  is  the  first  issue;  and  the 
position  of  pragmatism  is  entirely  unambiguous. 

But  it  is  a  second  issue,  and  not  this  issue,  that  raises 
the  question  of  indeterminism.  How  far  is  the  series 
of  temporal  events  determined?  The  considerations  just 
adduced  afford  no  answer  to  this  question.  It  is  entirely 
possible  to  maintain  the  existential  priority  of  time,  and  be 
a  vigorous  determinist  as  well.  It  is  precisely  such  a  blend 
of  doctrines  that  is  characteristic  of  naturalism.  Pragma- 
tism asserts  "a  really  evolving,  and  therefore  as  yet 
incomplete,  reality."  l  But  so  does  naturalism.  And  the 
latter  theory  finds  no  difficulty  in  uniting  with  this  asser- 
tion the  further  assertion  that  the  evolution  in  question 
is  strictly  determined.  The  future  cosmos  is  not  yet;  but 
will  unfold,  coincidently  with  the  passage  of  time,  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  physics. 

Bergson  makes  much  of  the  contention  that  "deep- 
seated  psychic  states  occur  once  in  consciousness  and  will 
never  occur  again."  2  The  real  temporal  flux,  revealed  in 
the  inner  life,  is  a  growing  old,  in  which  no  phase  can  recur, 

1  Schiller:   op.  cit.,  p.  392. 

1  Bergson:   op.  cit.,  p.  219.    Cf.  also  Creative  Evolution,  pp.  1-7. 


252         PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

because  each  phase  is  a  resume"  of  the  past.  But  thi? 
description  would  apply  perfectly  to  a  rigidly  mechanical 
nature.  It  is  entirely  consistent  with  the  mechanical 
theory  that  time  is  the  'independent  variable.'  The  for- 
mulas of  mechanics  contain  the  time- variable,  which  means 
(as  Bergson  does  not  appear  to  recognize)  lapse  of  time, 
together  with  other  variables  which  are  functions  of  the 
time-variable.  As  the  value  of  the  time-variable  increases, 
the  rest  of  the  system  alters  according  to  the  law  which 
defines  its  relation  to  the  time-variable.  In  other  words, 
it  ages,  according  to  law.  Such  a  process  would  be  exem- 
plified in  the  simplest  conceivable  mechanical  system,  that 
of  a  single  body  moving  in  infinite  space  at  a  uniform  veloc- 
ity. Mechanics  does  not  assume  the  possibility  of  periodicity 
or  recurrence,  but  only  the  possibility  of  the  persist- 
ence of  some  abstract  relationship  among  variables.1 

Thus  the  pragmatist's  assertion  of  the  temporality  of 
existence  is  entirely  irrelevant  to  the  question  of  its  de- 
termination. A  temporal  existence  may  be  a  bare  sequence 
of  disjointed  events,  or  a  lawless  flux  of  interpenetrating 
phases;  or  it  may  be  an  order  which  obeys  a  law.  Which 
of  these  it  is,  must  be  judged  by  other  evidence  than  its 
mere  temporality.  We  are  thus  brought  back  again  to 
the  general  pluralistic  doctrine  defined  above.  Since  there 
are  disjunctions  in  the  world,  these  may  occur  between 
successive  events  as  well  as  elsewhere.  In  other  words,  we 
may  construe  a  +  b  as  prior  in  time  to  the  c  or  d  which  are 
equally  consistent  with  it.  We  may  then  say  that  at  the 
moment  when  a  +  b  is  completed  by  the  addition  of  b  to  a, 
two  futures  are  possible;  in  the  sense  that  while  m  is  im- 
plied, the  implication  does  not  determine  whether  it  shall 
be  nf  or  md.  So  far  as  a  -f  &,  or  any  other  attendant 
conditions  are  concerned,  either  will  serve. 

In  this  sense  it  is  intelligible,  and  on  pluralistic  grounds 
correct,  to  say  that  there  is  a  real  contingency  and  novelty 
in  the  world.  Events  occur  which  not  only  have  not 

1  See  above,  pp.  56  ff. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH     253 

occurred  before,  but  which  are  not  implied  in  what  has 
occurred  before.  "Those  parts  of  the  universe  already 
laid  down"  do  not  "absolutely  appoint  and  decree  what 
the  other  parts  shall  be."  l  Events  occur  which  cannot  be 
inf erred  from  the  past.  To  predict  them,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  foresee  them.  The  possibility  of  such  foresight 
does  not  contradict  their  contingency,  any  more  than  the 
bare  perception  of  simultaneous  events  contradicts  their 
disjunction.  The  essential  point  is  that  they  are  not 
implied  in  something  else,  but  can  be  known  only  after 
the  fact.  An  omniscient  mind  could  know  them  only  by 
knowing  each  of  them,  or  embracing  them  in  an  empirical 
aggregate. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  thus  far  indetermination  adds 
nothing  to  pluralism.  It  justifies  a  belief  in  multiple  pos- 
sibility, and  rids  the  mind  of  the  necessity  of  judging 
everything  in  the  world  by  everything  else  in  the  world. 
It  justifies  a  worship  of  some  things,  and  an  uncompromising 
enmity  to  other  things;  and  does  not  force  man  to  take 
the  world  as  all  one,  for  better  or  for  worse.  It  justifies  a 
belief  that  the  future  holds  in  store  things  which  cannot  be 
inferred  from  what  has  already  occurred;  and  hence  the 
hope  that  the  world  may  be  better  than  its  promise.  It 
justifies  an  adventurous  and  hardy  optimism,  and  puts 
the  religion  of  renunciation  and  acquiescence  among  the 
obsolete  superstitions.  But  despite  all  this  it  is  none  the 
less  true  that  indeterminism  in  this  general  pluralistic 
sense  contributes  nothing  toward  proving  human  freedom. 
Such  indeterminism  attaches  to  man  no  more  than  to  any 
other  part  of  reality.  It  would  be  perfectly  consistent 
with  it  that  man  should  be  less  free  than  the  planets.  It 
proves  that  existence  makes  strange  bed-fellows,  and  that 
the  course  of  events  is  surprising.  But  it  does  not  endow 
man,  the  moral  agent,  with  any  unique  share  in  this  dis- 
junction and  novelty;  nor  with  any  peculiar  power  to 
direct  it  or  profit  by  it.  There  is  an  element  of  chance  in 

1  James:  op.  cit.,  p.  150. 


254       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

life,  but  it  is  as  likely  to  be  the  mishap  of  which  man  is 
the  victim,  as  the  opportunity  of  which  he  is  the  master. 

§  6.  But    there    are    other   pragmatist    arguments    for 

mdeterminism  which  will  perhaps  yield  a  more  positive 

terminism    freedom.    Thus    there    is    an    indeterminism 

as  the  Sequel  to  that  follows  from  anti-intellectualism.     It  con- 

Anti-inteiiec-      sists  in  the  assertion  that  since  determinism  is 

tualism.    Will  .      .  .     .        .        „  .      .          .      . 

as  itself  the  a  device  of  the  intellect,  it  is  relative  to  the 
Author  of  De-  interest  which  moves  the  intellect,  and  cannot 
therefore  be  imposed  on  life  itself.  Instead  of 
being  determined,  the  will  is  itself  the  author  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  determination;  this  principle  is  not  its  master,  but 
its  creature.  Thus,  according  to  Schiller,  "determinism 
is  an  indispensable  Postulate  of  Science."  As  such 
it  "has  primarily  a  moral  significance;  it  is  an  encour- 
agement and  not  a  revelation."  And  "it  is  quite  easy  to 
accept  it  as  a  methodological  assumption  without  claiming 
for  it  any  ontological  validity."  Whether  we  accept  this 
postulate  or  "the  ethical  Postulate  of  Freedom"  is,  in 
the  end,  "a  matter  of  free  choice,"  based  on  their  relative 
serviceability.1 

Such  considerations  as  these  support  the  indeterministic 
theory,  only  provided  two  further  assumptions  are  made. 
In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  assumed  that  the  agency 
which  formulates  and  employs  a  certain  category  cannot 
itself  be  subject  to  that  category.  This  assumption  plays,  as 
we  have  seen,  a  notable  part  in  idealistic  philosophies,2  — 
in  all  philosophies  which  seek  to  distinguish  and  separate 
the  subject  of  knowledge  from  the  manifold  of  objects. 
It  is  argued  that  known  object  implies  knowing  subject, 
and  that  to  make  this  subject  itself  object  is  to  displace 
and  falsify  it.  The  real  subject  is  that  which  in  every 
case  of  knowledge  functions  as  subject.  The  application 
to  the  question  of  determinism  is  obvious.  It  is  argued 
that  things  are  determined  by  virtue  of  being  objectified, 

1  Studies  in  Humanism,  pp.  395,  396,  397,  394,  406. 
*  See  above,  p.  137;  and  below,  pp.  295-296. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH     255 

and  that  the  objectifying  activity  itself  thus  escapes 
determination. 

But  there  is  no  reason  why  the  subject  of  knowledge 
should  not  in  turn  be  object  of  knowledge;  or  why,  indeed, 
it  should  not  be  object  of  knowledge  (in  relation  to  another 
subject)  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  subject  of  knowledge.  It 
is  necessary  only  to  suppose  that  the  same  term  may  stand 
in  two  or  more  different  relations  without  forfeiting  its 
identity.  And  unless  we  are  to  discredit  knowledge  alto- 
gether we  must  suppose  that  the  real  nature  of  anything  is 
revealed  when  it  is  object  of  knowledge,  and  in  proportion 
as  that  knowledge  is  reflective  and  critical.  It  follows 
that  the  subject  which  objectifies  other  things,  and  renders 
them  determinate,  may  itself  be  treated  likewise;  and  that 
only  when  so  treated  is  its  real  nature  revealed.  The 
subject  is  then  free  from  determination  only  in  so  far  as 
at  any  given  time  it  is  merely  knowing  and  not  known. 
Freedom  in  this  sense  is  only  a  mode  of  nescience. 

§  7.  The  other  assumption  which  is  needed  to  complete 
the  argument,  is  the  assumption  that  laws  are  artificial. 
Determinism  In  this  application  it  means  that  determinism 
as  an  intellect  is  a  fabrication  of  the  intellect,  and  imposed 

tuahstic  Falsifi-  .  .   ,       ,  ,  .  \ 

cation  of  Tem-   on   a   plastic   material  whose  real  inwardness 

poral  Reality       ft  distorts. 

The  most  notable  criticism  of  determinism  on  these 
grounds  is  that  offered  by  Bergson.  It  constitutes  one  of 
the  major  applications  of  his  most  fundamental  and  orig- 
inal thesis,  to  the  effect  that  the  intellect  spacializes  time, 
and  so  necessarily  falsifies  every  temporal  process  by 
expressing  it  as  a  "multiplicity  of  juxtaposition."  Real 
time  (duree  reelle)  is  "heterogeneous"  and  "continuous"; 
the  real  temporal  process  is  a  multiplicity  of  "interpenetra- 
tion."  Action,  as  a  real  temporal  process,  is  spacialized 
and  falsified  by  mechanism,  by  finalism,  and  even  by  the 
majority  of  indeterminists.  By  all  such  "intellectualists," 
action  is  represented  as  a  discrete  process,  with  its  com- 
ponent elements  and  successive  phases  in  external  juxtapo- 


256       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

sition  to  one  another.  Time  is  represented  as  a  linear 
series;  and  the  conditions  of  action,  the  moment  of  choice, 
and  the  result  of  action,  are  all  correlated  with  the  terms 
of  this  series.  But  such  a  diagram  is  both  discrete  and 
static;  whereas  the  real  action  flows,  and  endures.  The 
intellectualistic  representation  necessarily  excludes  freedom, 
because  it  is  the  representation  of  a  completed  action, 
and  not  of  an  action  as  it  goes  on.  It  is  impossible  in 
this  way  to  represent  alternative  possibilities;  for  the 
representation  either  contains  both  possibilities,  and  so  is 
contrary  to  fact,  or  it  contains  one  of  them  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  the  other,  which  contradicts  the  supposition  of 
alternatives.  And  the  finalistic  scheme  is  as  rigid  as  the 
mechanical  scheme.  For  whether  we  conceive  the  later 
terms  of  the  series  as  the  sequel  to  the  earlier,  or  the  earlier 
as  the  foreshadowing  of  the  later,  in  either  case  all  the 
terms  are  there,  in  place,  simultaneously  and  exclusively.1 

Bergson's  objection  to  the  intellectualist's  version  of 
time  rests,  as  we  have  seen,  upon  a  mistaken  conception 
of  the  intellectual  or  analytical  method.2  The  spacial 
representation  of  time  is  intended  to  be  a  representation 
of  order;  and  to  be  a  representation  of  time  in  so  far,  and 
only  in  so  far,  as  time  is  orderly.  It  is  not  intended  to 
suggest  either  that  time  is  nothing  but  order,  or  that  time 
is  spacial  like  the  representation.  The  properties  of  order 
are  the  same,  whether  in  space,  number,  the  color  spec- 
trum, the  alphabet,  or  time.  The  points  on  a  line  furnish 
a  convenient  case  of  order  for  purposes  of  demonstration; 
and  their  use  doubtless  reflects  the  spacializing  propensity 
of  the  imagination.  But  if  Bergson  were  a  better  prag- 
matist  he  would  not  assume,  as  he  appears  to  do,  that 
representations  are  mere  reproductions  of  their  objects. 
He  would  recognize  the  possibility  of  meaning  non-spacial 
relations  by  spacial  images.  He  would  not  insist,  as  he 

1  Bergson:  Time  and  Free  Will,  pp.  121, 128, 129, 172  sq.,  and  Ch.  HI, 
Passim. 

1  See  above,  pp.  231  ff. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      257 

does,  that  we  know  number  by  "picturing"  it;  and  that 
we  cannot  escape  the  characteristics  of  the  graphic  imagi- 
nation. He  would  not  fall  into  the  loose  common  sense  use 
of  the  term  'conceive'  as  depict;  and  thus  perpetually 
confuse  the  arrangement  of  the  instrumental  image  with 
the  arrangement  which  it  enables  us  to  know.1 

Indeed,  if  it  were  not  possible  to  employ  spacial  images 
for  the  knowing  of  non-spacial  things,  Bergson  himself 
would  be  even  more  helpless  than  those  whom  he  criticizes. 
For  his  own  favorite  expressions  are  essentially  spacial. 
What  images  do  the  words  "flux,"  "continuity,"  "inter- 
penetration,"  "deep-seated,"  "interconnexion,"  "organi- 
zation," and  "fusion,"  suggest,  if  not  spacial  images?  And 
yet  Bergson  assumes  that  these  images  may  so  function  as 
to  afford  knowledge  of  that  which  is  essentially  non-spacial. 
If  a  figure  of  speech  can  so  function,  is  there  any  reason  why 
a  geometrical  figure,  or  algebraic  formula,  should  not? 
In  short,  Bergson  arbitrarily  imputes  to  his  intellectualist 
adversary  a  na'ive  identification  of  object  and  symbol 
which  he  disclaims  in  his  own  behalf. 

It  is  not  a  question,  then,  of  imputing  to  time  the  ar- 
rangement characteristic  of  logical  or  mathematical  symbol- 
ism, but  of  imputing  to  time  certain  properties  which  may 
be  known  by  means  of  this  symbolism.  Is  time  an  order, 
or  is  it  not?  Is  duration  an  extensive  magnitude,  or  is  it 
not?  Now  the  orderliness  of  time  is  implied  in  all  that 
Bergson  has  to  say  about  it,  e.g.,  in  its  continuity,  and  in 
its  duality  of  'sense'  or  direction.  While  its  multiplicity, 
even  though  it  be  characterized  as  "  qualitative"  rather 
than  "  juxtapositional,"  is  orderly,  in  that  if  any  phase,  a, 
be  later  or  older  than  another  phase,  6,  and  6  than  a  third 
phase,  c,  then  a  is  later  or  older  than  c.  And  as  to  time's 
being  an  extensive  magnitude,  Bergson's  argument  would 
appear  to  consist  in  pointing  out  that  temporal  processes 
are  not  merely  extensive  magnitudes;  which  no  one,  I  think, 
would  be  disposed  to  deny.  Velocity,  e.g.,  is  an  intensive 

i  Time  and  Free  Witt,  p.  78. 
18 


258        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

magnitude.  But  this  does  not  in  the  least  prevent  its 
being  a  ratio  of  the  extensive  magnitudes,  d  (distance) 
and  t  (lapse,  or  interval  of  time).  It  may  even  be  ad- 
mitted that  every  temporal  process  or  change,  every 
function  of  time,  has  intensive  magnitude;  and  this  in  no 
way  contradicts  the  conception  of  time  itself  as  an  exten- 
sive magnitude.  In  other  words,  an  intensive  magnitude 
may  be  a  function  of  extensive  magnitudes,  and  may  be 
computable  or  predictable  in  terms  thereof. 

That  such  is  the  case  is  proved  by  the  predictions 
which  science  is  actually  enabled  to  make.  Bergson's 
critique  of  astronomical  prediction  turns  upon  the  asser- 
tion that  the  symbol  /  in  the  equations  of  astronomy  "does 
not  stand  for  a  duration,  but  for  a  relation  between  two 
durations,  for  a  certain  number  of  units  of  time,  in  short, 
for  a  certain  number  of  simultaneities."  l  In  other  words, 
the  /  of  science  is  measured  by  some  standard  change, 
such  as  the  motion  of  the  hands  of  a  clock.  So  that  if  a 
"mischievous  genius"  were  to  decree  that  all  the  move- 
ments of  the  universe  should  go  twice  as  fast,  the  predic- 
tions of  science  would  not  be  affected.  Now,  granting 
this,  it  follows  only  that  science  cannot  predict  absolutely, 
but  only  relatively.  This,  however,  does  not  in  the  least 
detract  from  the  precision  of  the  prediction,  nor  from  its 
reference  to  the  future.  Indeed  the  very  statement  of  the 
objection  assumes  that  time  is  an  extensive  magnitude. 
For  if  the  movements  of  the  universe  may  go  "twice  as 
fast,"  then  it  must  be  possible  that  the  same  distances 
should  be  covered  in  half  the  time.  And  if  time  can  be 
halved  it  must  be  an  extensive  magnitude. 

Subsequently,  Bergson  has  the  temerity  to  speak  of  a 
decree  that  time  itself  "shall  go  ten  times,  a  hundred 
times,  a  thousand  times  as  fast."  Apparently  the  rate 
of  real  time  is  to  be  measured  by  the  immediate  feeling 
of  the  "enduring"  or  ageing  of  experience.  If  so,  can 
Bergson  explain,  without  making  use  of  the  conception  of 
1  Op.  dt.,  p.  193. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH     259 

a  pure  extended  time,  what  is  meant  by  "a  psychological 
duration  of  a  few  seconds  ?"1  Or  how  temporal  magnitudes 
are  commensurable;  how,  e.g.,  two  lives  with  different 
experiences  may  be  regarded  as  synchronous?  Or  how  one 
day  may  be  regarded  as  fuller  and  richer  than  another? 
The  fact  is  that  no  quantitative  judgments  whatsoever 
can  be  made  concerning  temporal  processes  that  do  not 
employ  the  notion  of  a  simple  extended  (not  spacial) 
temporal  magnitude.  And  the  predictions  of  science  are 
made  in  terms  of  this  component  of  change.  The  /  of  the 
equations  of  mechanics  means  this  component. 

As  we  have  seen,  Bergson  is  constantly  confusing  the 
symbol  with  what  it  means.  To  one  who  falls  into  this 
confusion,  it  may  appear  that  an  equation  cannot  refer  to 
time  because  the  structure  of  the  equation  itself  is  not 
temporal;  because  the  symbols  are  simultaneously  present 
in  the  equation.  But  if  /  is  one  of  the  terms  of  the  equa- 
tion, and  t  means  time,  then  the  equation  means  a  temporal 
process.  Furthermore,  an  equation  may  define  a  relation, 
such  as,  = ,  < ,  or  > ,  between  temporal  quantities,  in 
which  case  the  full  meaning  of  the  equation  is  still 
temporal.  For  changes,  events,  or  even  pure  intervals, 
may  stand  in  non-temporal  relations,  such  as  those  above, 
without  its  in  the  least  vitiating  their  temporality.  The 
supposition  that  an  equation  defining  a  relation  can  mean 
no  more  than  the  relation  defined  is  disproved  by  every 
formula  of  science.  The  formula,  c2  =  a?  +  bz  —  2  ab.  cos.y, 
does  not  mean  merely  equality,  but  a  relation  of  equality 
among  the  sides  and  an  angle  of  a  triangle.  The  formula 
means  something  about  triangles,  by  virtue  of  the  meaning 
of  its  component  variables,  and  despite  the  fact  that  the 
relation  defined  is  the  non-spacial  relation  of  numerical 
equality.  And  similarly,  a  formula  in  dynamics,  such  as 
v  =  gtj  means  something  about  a  temporal  process. 

There  remains  one  further  instance  of  Bergson's  failure 
to  represent  with  any  correctness  the  position  of  his  deter- 

>  Op.  cit.,  pp.  193,  194. 


260        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

ministic  opponent.  It  is  a  question  of  Paul's  ability  to 
predict  Peter's  choice,  provided  he  knows  "all  the  condi- 
tions under  which  Peter  acts."1  Bergson  argues  that  in 
order  to  know  absolutely  all  of  the  conditions  under  which 
Peter  acts,  and  to  know  all  about  these  conditions  (includ- 
ing what  they  lead  to),  Paul  would  have  to  be  Peter,  up 
to  and  including  the  moment  of  his  choice  —  so  that 
instead  of  predicting  the  choice,  he  would  be  himself 
making  it. 

But  determinism  does  not  rest  its  case  on  the  possibility 
of  knowing  all  the  conditions  of  an  event.  No  such  knowl- 
edge has  ever  been  attained  in  any  instance.  Determinism 
rests  its  case  upon  the  fact  that  it  has  sometimes  proved 
possible  to  find  just  those  particular  conditions  upon  which 
the  event  depended.  Prediction  always  abstracts,  not 
only  causes,  but  effects  as  well.  It  finds  cases  of  specific, 
discriminated  terms,  antecedent  and  subsequent,  that  are 
connected  by  a  law.  Its  prediction  is  based  on  the  spe- 
cific antecedent,  and  confined  to  the  specific  consequence. 
It  assumes  that  whenever  such  and  such  conditions  occur, 
whatever  else  may  occur,  such  and  such  consequences 
will  ensue,  whatever  else  may  ensue.  And  Bergson  has 
offered  no  reason  for  supposing  that  such  is  not  the  case 
with  human  action,  as  well  as  with  other  temporal  sequence. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  the  case.  Human  action  is 
predictable  within  limits;  inasmuch  as  laws,  such  as  those 
of  physiology,  pathology,  and  psychology,  have  been  found 
and  verified.  So  that  Bergson's  objection  amounts  to  no 
more  than  the  contention  that  human  action  is  not  in  all 
respects  predictable,  which  holds  equally  of  every  other 
concrete  event. 

Thus  the  indeterminism  that  is  founded  on  the  polemic 
against  intellectualism,  like  that  founded  on  pluralism, 
means  only  that  there  is  disjunction,  irrelevance,  and  nov- 
elty in  the  world,  as  well  as  law.  Such  indetermination 
is  enjoyed  by  life  and  moral  action  no  more  than  by 
1  Op.  ctt.,  pp.  185,  and  sq. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      261 

its  natural  environment.  There  is  thus  far  no  ground 
for  imputing  to  man  any  prerogative  of  freedom,  by 
which  his  nature  is  distinguished  and  exalted.  Indeter- 
minism  in  such  a  positive  and  eulogistic  sense  depends 
entirely,  then,  on  the  further  doctrine  that  man  possesses 
a  unique  activity,  a  real  causality  of  another  order, 
through  which  he  may  be  the  original  and  spontaneous 
author  of  events. 

§  8.  Pragmatism's  positive  version  of  freedom  follows 
from  the  postulate  of  "dynamism,"  as  opposed  to  "mech- 
Freedomas  anism."  "Dynamism  starts  from  the  idea  of 
Creative  voluntary  activity,  given  by  consciousness," 

Activity  an(j  "j^g  thus  no  difficulty  in  conceiving  free 

force."  From  this  point  of  view,  "the  idea  of  spontaneity 
is  indisputably  simpler  than  that  of  inertia,  since  the 
second  can  be  understood  and  denned  only  by  means  of 
the  first,  while  the  first  is  self-sufficient."  Similarly, 
Schiller  says  that  the  will  is  "  the  original  and  more  definite 
archetype,  of  which  causation  is  a  derivative,  vaguer  and 
fainter  ectype."  l 

Bergson  has  stated  the  issue  clearly.  It  is  essential  to 
his  view  that  the  free  creative  activity  of  will  should  be 
regarded  as  a  simple  and  self-sufficient  experience.  There 
is,  it  is  true,  a  suggestion  of  another  view.  We  are  told 
that  the  free  act  is  the  act  of  which  the  "self  alone"  is  the 
author;  the  act  which  expresses  "  the  whole  of  the  self," 
as  distinguished  from  "  reflex  acts." 2  But  for  Bergson 
the  whole  of  the  self  is  not  the  sum  of  its  parts;  so  that 
it  is  impossible  to  construe  its  action  as  a  more  complicated 
or  massive  reflex.  The  "whole  personality"  is  indivisible 
and  unanalyzable;  it  appears  only  when  conscious  states 
dissolve  into  a  higher  unity,  and  its  action  can  only  be  felt 
and  not  traced. 

And  this  self-intuiting  activity  becomes  the  first  princi- 

1  Bergson:  op.  cit.,  pp.  140-142;  Schiller:  Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,  third 
edition,  p.  443.  Cf.  Appendix  I,  passim.  For  James's  more  critical  and 
limited  acceptance  of  the  same  view,  see  below,  pp.  352-353,  371. 

1  Time  and  Free  Will,  pp.  165,  166,  168. 


262        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

pie  of  Bergson's  metaphysics.  It  connects  his  theory  of 
knowledge  with  his  theory  of  will.  True  knowledge  is 
"that  faculty  of  seeing  which  is  immanent  in  the  faculty 
of  acting."  And  activity  is  the  universal  substance. 
Strictly  speaking,  "there  are  no  things,  there  are  only 
actions."  Activity  is  no  longer  predicated  merely  of  the 
organism  as  distinguished  from  the  environment.  As  the 
former  is  a  reality  which  makes  itself,  the  latter  is  "a 
creative  action  which  unmakes  itself"  If  life  is  a  movement, 
"materiality  is  the  inverse  movement."  They  are  two 
"  undivided"  currents,  two  "simple"  movements,  that  run 
counter  to  one  another.  And  "God  thus  defined  has 
nothing  of  the  already  made;  He  is  unceasing  life,  action, 
freedom.  Creation,  so  conceived,  is  not  a  mystery;  we 
experience  it  in  ourselves  when  we  act  freely."1  Thus 
the  sequel  to  the  postulate  of  'dynamism'  is  a  metaphys- 
ical 'activism'  or  creationism;  and  in  so  far  as  pragmatism 
assumes  this  form,  it  allies  itself  with  the  voluntaristic 
and  romanticist  forms  of  idealism. 

The  sole  support  of  this  metaphysics  and  philosophy  of 
religion  is  the  postulate  of  dynamism.  If  it  be  true  that 
the  essential  nature  of  causality  is  revealed  in  the  experi- 
ence of  activity,  then  it  follows  that  physical  causality  is 
only  a  projection  or  inversion  of  will.  Criticism,  then, 
must  challenge  the  postulate.  And,  first  of  all,  it  is  to  be 
pointed  out  that  the  origin  of  the  idea  of  causality  is  an 
irrelevant  consideration.  The  causation  exercised  by  the 
will  may  have  been  the  first  to  attract  attention,  and  it  may 
remain  the  most  familiar  instance;  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  causation  was  first  understood  in  the  case  of  the  will, 
or  that  the  will  is  the  clearest  instance  of  it.  As  the  first 
and  most  familiar  instance,  it  may  be  the  most  primitive 
and  ill-comprehended.  It  may  be  the  instance  to  which 
crude  and  uncritical  modes  of  thought  are,  through  the 
operation  of  habit,  most  firmly  attached.  This  suggestion 

1  Creative  Evolution,  pp.  250,  247,  248,  249,  248.  For  the  idealistic  form 
of  activism,  see  above,  pp.  150-154. 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM   AND   FAITH      263 

receives  support  from  the  fact  that  the  experience  of  activ- 
ity is  held  to  reveal  the  operation  of  a  simple,  free,  and 
spontaneous  "  force,"  just  in  proportion  as  it  is  not  ana- 
lyzed. "The  self,  infallible  when  it  affirms  its  immediate 
experiences,  feels  itself  free  and  says  so;  but,  as  soon  as  it 
tries  to  explain  its  freedom  to  itself,  it  no  longer  perceives 
itself  except  by  a  kind  of  refraction  through  space."  1 

This  is  Bergson's  way  of  acknowledging  that  the  ex- 
perience, whether  for  better  or  for  worse,  can  be  analyzed. 
Now  it  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  there  is  a  very 
significant  difference  between  the  simplicity  that  precedes, 
and  that  which  follows,  analysis.  The  first  is  the  simplic- 
ity of  knowledge  that  has  not  yet  fully  explored  and 
grasped  its  object;  the  second  is  the  simplicity  of  the 
object.  The  knowledge  of  anything  whatsoever  is  simple 
at  the  instant  of  its  initiation;  it  begins  at  zero,  or  spreads 
from  a  point  which  is  the  bare  denoting  of  its  object.  To 
attribute  this  accidental  and  subjective  simplicity  to  the 
object  is  to  fall  into  the  error  which  I  have  called  the  error 
of  'pseudo-simplicity.'2  "Dynamism"  depends  upon 
this  error.  It  unites  the  multiplicity  of  activity  as  a  proc- 
ess, the  multiplicity  which  it  reveals  upon  even  the  most 
cursory  examination,  with  that  phase  of  knowledge  in 
which  analysis  has  not  yet  begun.  The  as-yet-simple 
knowledge  of  a  complex  thing  is  converted  into  a  thing 
which  possesses  a  complex  simplicity  or  simple  complexity. 

This  is  not  the  same  as  to  say  that  activity  is  indefin- 
able. It  is  not  shown  to  be  simple,  in  the  sense  of  having 
been  tested  and  found  unanalyzable.  It  is  not  an  ultimate 
term.  As  a  matter  of  fact  activity  has  proved  definable, 
both  psychologically  and  physically.  Pragmatists,  like 
James,  have  gone  far  toward  defining  subjective  effort; 3 
and  rational  dynamics  contains  exact  formulations  of 
'force'  and  'energy'  in  the  physical  sense.  No,  —  one 

1  Bergson:  Time  and  Free  Will,  p.  183. 
1  See  above,  pp.  128-132. 

1  Cf.  James:  "The  Experience  of  Activity,"  in  A  Pluralistic  Universe, 
Appendix  B.  Cf.  below,  pp.  352~353- 


264        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

must  not  attempt  to  define  it;  it  is  essentially  a  something- 
not-yet-defined.  In  short,  it  is  nescience  presented  in  the 
rdle  of  a  revelation  of  reality.  To  lapse  from  knowledge 
into  nescience  is  always  possible,  —  there  is  no  law  of  God 
or  man  forbidding  it.  But  to  offer  nescience  as  evidence 
of  the  nature  of  anything,  to  rank  nescience  above  knowl- 
edge for  cognitive  purposes,  is  to  obtain  immunity  from 
criticism  only  by  forfeiting  the  right  to  a  respectful  hearing. 

Pragmatism  thus  offers  two  versions  of  indeterminism. 
On  the  one  hand  it  is  argued  on  pluralistic  grounds  that 
necessity  is  not  all-pervading.  There  are  dislocations  in 
the  universe,  that  make  it  possible  to  judge  parts  of  it — such 
as  its  good,  its  evil,  and  its  indifference  —  independently. 
It  is  possible  to  attack  evil  in  behalf  of  good,  without  the 
sense  that  one's  client  is  guilty  of  complicity.  Reality 
is  not  a  conspiracy;  the  game  is  not  "fixed";  the  world  in 
the  all-inclusive  sense  is  a  contact  of  strange  things,  a 
shock  of  independent  forces;  the  adventure  of  life  is  an 
honest  warfare. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  argued  by  pragmatists  of  the 
radical  wing  that  there  is  in  man  an  indeterminate,  incal- 
culable, and  creative  power  to  do.  But  the  proof  of  it 
requires  the  abandonment  of  every  tried  method  of  knowl- 
edge—  both  the  logical  method  of  "intellectualists,"  and 
the  observational,  experimental  method  which  pragmatists 
themselves  have  so  successfully  practised  on  every  occasion 
but  this.  Radicalism  of  this  type  is  not  only  unreasonable 
and  unverifiable,  but  it  destroys  the  originality  and  dis- 
tinction of  pragmatism  and  allies  it  with  forces  of  romanti- 
cism, mysticism,  and  irrationalism.1 

§  9.  In  a  resume  of  pragmatism  Papini  alludes  to  its 
attitude  toward  religious  questions  as  "fdcismS**  By  this 
is  meant  its  application  of  the  pragmatic  theory  of  truth 

1  There  is  a  positive  sequel  to  pluralistic  indeterminism,  which  does 
not  involve  these  excesses.  Cf.  below,  pp.  340-342. 

1  Cf.  G.  Papini:  //  Crepuscolo  del  Filosofi;  James:  "G.  Papini  and  the 
Pragmatist  Movement  in  Italy,"  in  Jour,  of  Phil,  Psych.,  and  Scientific 
Methods,  Vol.  Ill,  1906. 


PLURALISM,   INDETERMINISM    AND    FAITH      265 

to  the  case  of  religious  belief.  Here  again  we  shall  find 
it  important  to  distinguish  between  the  more  moderate 
pragmatism,  represented  by  James,  and  the 
more  radical  pragmatism,  represented  in  this 
Truth  Applied  case  by  Papini,  LeRoy,  and  Schiller. 
FaiSeligioUS  James's  view  is  expounded  in  his  essay  "  The 
Will  to  Believe,"  and  in  the  more  recent  "Faith 
and  the  Right  to  Believe."  *  He  contends  that  in  the  case  of 
religion  we  are  warranted  in  adopting  that  belief  which  is 
most  in  accord  with  our  hopes,  and  which  gives  most  firm- 
ness and  courage  to  the  moral  will,  even  though  the  belief  is 
not  decisively  proved.  James  does  not  advance  this  view  on 
the  general  ground  that  we  may  believe  what  we  wish,  but 
on  the  ground  of  the  special  circumstances  peculiar  to 
religious  belief.  To  state  the  issue  clearly  we  must  recall 
the  pragmatic  theory  of  truth.2 

Ideas  or  beliefs  are  essentially  instruments  of  meaning. 
They  are  good  instruments  in  so  far  as  they  afford  access 
to  their  objects,  and  the  test  of  their  goodness  in  this  sense 
is  to  try  them;  i.e.,  employ  them  as  means  of  access.  If 
they  present  to  the  mind  what  they  have  led  the  mind  to 
expect,  they  are  true.  But  ordinarily  one  does  not  use 
ideas  merely  to  test  them;  one  assumes  their  reliability 
and  employs  them  in  the  affairs  of  life.  And  if  they  work 
here,  they  receive  additional  verification;  for  if  they  were 
not  good  substitutes  for  parts  of  the  environment,  they 
would  not  fit  in  with  the  rest  of  the  environment.  But 
ideas  acquire  still  a  third  variety  of  value  through  their 
immediate  agreeableness,  or  their  power  to  impart  vigor 
to  the  agent.  In  other  words,  they  possess  a  sentimental 
or  emotional  value.  This  sentimental  value,  unlike  their 
operative  value,  does  not  confirm  their  primary  value  as 
representations  or  means  of  access  to  things.  A  highly 
agreeable  or  inspiring  idea,  or  a  belief  that  disposes  the 

1  Published  as  an  Appendix  to  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy.    For 
further  references  to  James,  see  below,  pp.  367-368. 
1  Cf.  above,  pp.  203  ff. 


266        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

mind  to  peace  and  contentment,  may  be  of  all  ideas  the 
least  fitted  to  prepare  the  mind  for  what  is  to  befall  it.  In 
other  words,  such  emotional  value  is  irrelevant  to  truth- 
value,  in  the  strict  sense.  But  there  are  cases  in  which 
this  emotional  value  may  nevertheless  be  allowed  to  weigh 
and  to  determine  the  acceptance  of  belief.  And  religion 
is  such  a  case. 

For  here  the  idea  cannot  be  decisively  tested  by  the  other 
means.  It  is  impossible  to  verify  or  disprove  its  truth,  in 
the  strict  sense.  The  evidence  remains  indecisive.  If  one 
were  governed  only  by  'theoretical'  considerations,  one 
would  be  compelled  to  suspend  judgment.  But  that  is 
impossible.  Some  plan  of  action  with  reference  to  the 
world  at  large,  whether  it  move  one  to  hope  or  despair, 
must  be  adopted.  There  is  a  "forced  option."  If  one 
scrupulously  refrains  from  taking  the  hopeful  view,  one 
inevitably  falls  into  renunciation  or  despair.  But  these 
are  no  better  justified,  theoretically,  than  hope;  indeed, 
they  are  less  justified,  for  there  is  a  balance  of  probability 
in  favor  of  religion.  It  would  be  folly,  then,  to  allow 
one's  "logical  scrupulosity"  to  drive  one  to  renunciation 
or  despair.  Furthermore,  if  one's  religious  belief  refers  to 
the  future,  and  if  the  belief  moves  one  to  action,  the  very 
acceptance  of  it  tends  to  bring  about  its  truth.  Hope- 
fulness may  lead  to  the  fulfilment  of  hope. 

In  this  view  the  distinction  between  the  theoretical 
test  of  truth,  and  the  emotional  justification  of  belief,  is 
renewed  and  emphasized  at  every  step.  The  emotional 
value  is  not  offered  as  evidence  of  truth,  but  as  justifying 
belief  where  truth  is  doubtful.  But  the  second  or  radical 
view,  on  the  other  hand,  merges  these  two  tests,  the 
narrower  truth-test  and  the  emotional  test.  Both  tests 
are  "practical";  both  are  cases  of  "working";  both  are 
cases  in  which  the  idea  is  justified  by  the  "  satisfaction" 
it  yields.  Truth,  in  the  broad  sense,  is  that  which  "  har- 
monizes" with  life  all  around.  No  pessimistic  system  can 
be  true  in  this  sense  because  it  leaves  "a  sense  of  final 


PLURALISM,    INDETERMINISM    AND   FAITH       267 

discord  in  existence."  The  final  test  of  religion,  then,  is 
its  promotion  of  "  that  perfect  harmony  of  our  whole  life 
which  forms  our  final  aspiration."  l 

Now  such  a  view  as  this  has  very  serious  implications, 
and  justifies  a  certain  prejudice  against  pragmatism  as  a 
philosophy  of  caprice  and  wanton  irrationalism.  For  if 
the  test  of  truth  is  this  general  harmony  with  interests,  the 
cognitive  interest  being  only  one  among  the  rest,  then 
verification  in  the  narrow  sense,  and  emotional  con- 
gruity,  must  be  regarded  as  commensurable.  And  it  fol- 
lows that  in  any  given  case  the  latter  may  outweigh  the 
former.  It  is  even  conceivable  that  a  religious  belief 
should  be  so  pleasing  and  inspiring  as  to  be  true,  despite 
its  being  decisively  disproved  by  theoretical  means.  With ' 
James  the  theoretical  test  is  final  and  authoritative,  in  so 
far  as  it  can  be  applied,  and  no  amount  of  subjective  satis-, 
factoriness  can  overbalance  it.  The  right  to  believe  is  lim- 
ited to  the  cases  in  which  evidence  is  lacking  or  indecisive. 
But  were  the  full  implications  of  the  radical  view  to  be 
accepted,  there  would  be  a  right  to  believe  despite  evi- 
dence. There  would  be  an  end  of  discussion,  and  only  a  clash 
of  desires;  in  which  the  desire  for  theoretical  truth  could  be 
legitimately  shouted  down  by  the  clamor  of  the  rest. 

§  10.  Pragmatism,  both  of  the  more  moderate  type, 
represented  by  James,  and  in  the  main  by  his  American 
Pragmatism  allies  and  followers,  or  the  more  radical  type, 
and  the  Spirit  represented  by  Bergson,  Schiller,  Papini,  and 
LeRoy,  is  peculiarly  significant  of  the  present 
age.  Negatively,  it  is  significant  of  the  reaction  against 
absolutism,  long  enthroned  in  academic  and  other  ortho- 
dox circles.  It  signifies  that  the  spell  which  absolutism 
has  long  wrought  upon  the  minds  of  inquiring  and  youthful 
thinkers  has  lost  its  power.  More  positively,  pragmatism 
marks  the  maturing  and  the  express  formulation  of  certain 
ideas  that  have  long  inspired  European  thought. 

1  Schiller:  Humanism,  pp.  50,  61;  cf.  pp.  39  sq.,  189.  Cf.  also  above, 
pp.  209,  213. 


268        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

In  the  first  place,  pragmatism  employs  for  philosophical 
purposes  what  may  be  termed  the  'biological'  imagina- 
tion, as  distinguished  from  the  logical,  the  physical,  and  the 
introspectively  psychological.  Pragmatism  views  knowl- 
edge and  religion  as  modes  of  life;  and  life  it  conceives  not 
in  any  vague  eulogistic  sense,  but  in  the  naturalistic  sense, 
as  an  affair  of  forced  adaptation  to  an  indifferent  and,  at 
best,  reluctantly  plastic  environment.  Knowledge  and 
religion  arise  from  the  exigencies  of  life,  and  the  exigencies 
of  life  are  real,  perilous,  and  doubtful. 

In  the  second  place,  pragmatism  emphasizes  the  crucial 
importance  of  human  efforts.  It  teaches  that  the  spiritual 
life  is  in  the  making  at  the  point  of  contact  between  man 
and  the  balance  of  nature  — between  the  ideals  of  man,  and 
the  resistances,  cruelties,  and  seductions  with  which  they 
are  forced  to  cope.  The  hope  of  better  things  lies  in  the 
continued  operation  of  the  forces  that  are  even  now  yield- 
ing good  things.  Civilization,  not  the  totality  of  nature,  nor 
any  higher  synthetic  harmony,  is  the  work  of  God.  This 
is  the  Baconian  prophecy  renewed.  Through  the  knowl- 
edge that  is  power,  and  guided  by  his  desire  and  hope  of 
better  things,  man  may  conquer  nature  and  subdue  the 
insurrection  of  evil. 

Thirdly,  since  man's  efficiency  lies  in  his  collective  and 
not  in  his  individual  action,  pragmatism  emphasizes  society. 
It  is  non-pantheistic  and  non-mystical.  It  attaches  less  sig- 
nificance to  the  direct  relation  between  man  and  a  dynastic 
God,  and  more  to  that  relation  to  his  fellows  which  may  make 
a  man  a  servant  of  the  collective  life,  and  so  lead  him  to  a 
new  conception  of  God  as  leader  of  common  cause. 

And  finally,  pragmatism  is  melioristic.  It  speaks  for 
the  spirit  of  making  better,  and  denounces  alike  the  spirit 
of  renunciation  and  the  spirit  of  despair.  It  is  the  phi- 
losophy of  impetuous  youth,  of  protestantism,  of  democ- 
racy, of  secular  progress  —  that  blend  of  naivete,  vigor, 
and  adventurous  courage  which  proposes  to  possess  the 
future,  despite  the  present  and  the  past. 


PART  V 
REALISM 


CHAPTER  XII 
A  REALISTIC  THEORY  OF  MIND 

I.  INTRODUCTORY 

§  i.  REALISM  has  thus  far  appeared  in  these  pages  mainly 
as  a  polemic.  This  polemic  may  conveniently  be  summa- 
Reaiism  as  a  rized  in  terms  of  the  general  errors  of  which  it 
Polemic  nncis  rival  tendencies  to  be  guilty.1 

'Argument  from  the  ego-centric  predicament/  that  is, 
from  the  circumstantial  presence  of  the  knower  in  all  cases 
of  things  known,  is  peculiar  to  idealism.  'Definition  by 
initial  predication,'  the  assumption  of  the  priority  of  a 
familiar  or  accidental  relationship,  is  based  on  the  more 
fundamental  error  of  'exclusive  particularity,'  or  the 
supposition  that  an  identical  term  can  figure  in  only 
one  relationship.  These  two  errors  together  appear  in  all 
exclusive  philosophies,  such  as  dualism,  and  monisms  of 
matter  or  mind.  The  error  of  'pseudo-simplicity/  which 
amounts  virtually  to  the  abandonment  of  analysis,  and  the 
notion  of  'indefinite  potentiality,'  which  is  the  sequel 
to  the  last,  are  characteristic  of  'substance'  philoso- 
phies, and  especially  of  all  forms  of  'activism,'  whether 
naturalistic,  idealistic,  or  pragmatistic.  The  'speculative 
dogma,'  the  assumption  of  an  all-general,  all-sufficient 
first  principle,  is  the  primary  motive  in  'absolutism.' 
Finally,  the  error  of  'verbal  suggestion,'  or  'equivoca- 
tion,' is  the  means  through  which  the  real  fruitlessness  of 
the  other  errors  may  be  concealed,  and  the  philosophy 

1  The  full  statement  of  these  errors  will  be  found  above,  especially  pp. 
64-68,  126-132,  169-171. 

271 


2J2       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

employing  them  given  a  meretricious  plausibility  and 
popular  vogue. 

As  has  already  appeared,  realism  is  nevertheless  in  agree- 
ment with  naturalism,  idealism,  and  pragmatism  respecting 
many  important  doctrines.  With  naturalism,  for  example, 
it  maintains  the  unimpeachable  truth  of  the  accredited 
results  of  science,  and  the  independence  of  physical  nature 
on  knowledge;  with  idealism  it  maintains  the  validity  and 
irreducibility  of  logical  and  moral  science;  and  with  prag- 
matism, the  practical  and  empirical  character  of  the  knowl- 
edge process,  and  the  presumptively  pluralistic  constitution 
of  the  universe. 

A  new  movement  invariably  arises  as  a  protest  against 
tradition,  and  bases  its  hope  of  constructive  achievement 
on  the  correction  of  certain  established  habits  of  thought. 
Realism  is  as  yet  in  a  phase  in  which  this  critical  motive 
dominates  and  affords  the  best  promise  of  initial  agree- 
ment. But  war  has  developed  a  class  consciousness,  and 
the  time  is  near  at  hand,  if,  indeed,  it  has  not  already 
arrived,  when  one  realist  may  recognize  another.  This 
dawning  spirit  of  fellowship,  accompanied  as  it  is  by  a 
desire  for  a  better  understanding  and  a  more  effective 
cooperation,1  justifies  an  attempt  to  summarize  the  central 
doctrines  of  a  constructive  realistic  philosophy. 

§  2.  The  crucial  problem  for  contemporary  philosophy 

is  the  problem  of  knowledge.     It  is  upon  this  question  that 

its  chief  tendencies  divide,  and  it  is  from  their 

Fundamental  ,         ,  ,      .  .  .  .  .  . 

importance  of  several  solutions  of  this  problem  that  these 
the  Problem  tendencies  derive  their  characteristic  interpre- 

of  Mind  .  ....          T         .    .  ,     .    ,          .. 

tations  of  life.  In  giving  a  brief  outline  of  a 
realistic  philosophy,  I  shall  therefore  have  to  do  mainly 
with  the  realistic  theory  of  knowledge.  I  propose,  how- 

1  Cf.  "The  Program  and  First  Platform  of  Six  Realists,"  by  E.  B.  Holt, 
W.  T.  Marvin,  W.  P.  Montague,  R.  B.  Perry,  W.  B.  Pitkin,  and  E.  G. 
Spaulding,  Jour.  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Method s,  Vol.  VII,  1910;  and 
the  volume  entitled  The  New  Realism,  by  the  same  writers.  Cf.  also  the 
author's  "  Realism  as  a  Polemic  and  Program  of  Reform,"  Jour,  of  Phil., 
Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  VII,  1910. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  273 

ever,  to  adopt  a  somewhat  novel  order  of  procedure.  The 
problem  of  knowledge  reduces,  in  the  last  analysis,  to  the 
problem  of  the  relation  between  a  mind  and  that  which  is 
related  to  a  mind  as  its  object.  The  constant  feature  of 
this  relationship  is  mind.  Instead,  therefore,  of  dealing 
first  with  knowledge,  leaving  mind  to  be  defined  only  inci- 
dentally or  not  at  all,  I  propose  first  to  discover  what 
manner  of  thing  mind  is,  in  order  that  we  may  profit  by 
such  a  discovery  in  our  study  of  knowledge.1 

Accounts  of  mind  differ  characteristically  according  as 
they  are  based  on  the  observation  of  mind  in  nature  and 
society,  or  on  introspection.  What  is  said  of  mind  by  his- 
torians, sociologists,  comparative  psychologists,  and,  among 
technical  philosophers,  most  notably  by  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle, is  based  mainly  or  wholly  on  general  observation. 
Mind  lies  in  the  open  field  of  experience,  having  its  own 
typical  form  and  mode  of  action,  but,  so  far  as  knowledge 
of  it  is  concerned,  as  generally  accessible,  as  free  to  all 
comers,  as  the  motions  of  stars  or  the  civilization  of  cities. 
On  the  other  hand,  what  is  said  of  mind  by  religious  teach- 
ers, by  human  psychologists  of  the  modern  school,  whether 
rational  or  empirical,  and,  among  technical  philosophers,  by 
such  writers  as  St.  Augustine,  Descartes,  and  Berkeley,  is 
based  on  self-consciousness.  The  investigator  generalizes 
the  nature  of  mind  from  an  exclusive  examination  of  his 
own. 

The  results  of  these  two  modes  of  inquiry  differ  so  strik- 
ingly as  to  appear  almost  irrelevant,  and  it  is  commonly 
argued  that  it  cannot  be  mind  that  is  directly  apprehended 
in  both  cases.  It  is  assumed,  furthermore,  that  one's  own 
mind,  or  the  mind  at  home,  must  be  preferred  as  more  gen- 
uine than  the  mind  abroad.  The  conclusion  follows  that  the 

1  Cf.  my  article  "A  Division  of  the  Problem  of  Epistemology,"  Jour, 
of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  VI,  1909.  The  remainder 
of  the  present  chapter  is  reprinted  in  part  from  a  series  of  articles  entitled 
"The  Hiddenness  of  Mind,"  "The  Mind's  Familiarity  with  Itself,"  and 
"The  Mind  Within  and  the  Mind  Without,"  Journal  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and 
Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  VI,  1909,  Nos.  2,  5,  7. 
19 


274        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

latter  is  not  mind  at  all,  but  a  mere  exterior  of  mind,  serving 
only  as  a  ground  for  inference.  Thus  we  reach  the  widely 
popular  view  that  mind  is  encased  in  a  non-mental  and 
impenetrable  shell,  within  which  it  may  cherish  the  secret 
of  its  own  essence  without  ever  being  disturbed  by  inquisi- 
tive intruders.  Now  one  might  easily  ask  embarrassing 
questions.  It  is  curious  that  if  its  exterior  is  impenetrable 
a  mind  should  give  such  marked  evidence  of  itself  as  to 
permit  the  safest  inferences  as  to  its  presence  within.  It  is 
curious,  too,  that  such  an  inward  mind  should  forever  be 
making  sallies  into  the  neighborhood  without  being  caught 
or  followed  back  into  its  retreat.  It  must  evidently  be 
supplied  with  means  of  egress  that  bar  ingress,  with  orifices 
of  outlook  that  are  closed  to  one  who  seeks  to  look  in. 
But  rather  than  urge  these  difficulties,  I  shall  attempt  to 
obviate  them.  This  is  possible  only  through  a  version  of 
the  two  minds,  the  mind  within  and  the  mind  without, 
that  shall  prove  them  to  be  in  reality  one.  To  unite  them 
it  is  necessary  to  replace  them  by  the  whole  mind,  in  which 
they  appear  plainly  as  parts.  The  traditional  shield  looks 
concave  on  one  side  and  convex  on  the  other.  That  this 
should  be  so  is  entirely  intelligible  in  view  of  the  nature  of 
the  entire  shield  and  the  several  ways  in  which  it  may  be 
approached.  The  whole  shield  may  be  known  from 
either  side  when  the  initial  bias  is  overcome.  Similarly, 
I  propose  to  describe  the  mind  within  and  the  mind 
without  as  parts  of  mind,  either  of  which  may  assume 
prominence  according  to  the  cognitive  starting-point;  the 
whole  mind  by  implication  lying  in  the  general  field  of 
experience  where  every  initial  one-sidedness  may  be 
overcome. 

In  addition  to  this  difference  of  method,  there  is  another 
distinction  that  it  will  prove  not  only  convenient  to  employ, 
but  important  to  emphasize — the  distinction  between  the 
action  and  the  content  of  consciousness.  Every  type  of 
consciousness  exhibits  this  duality.  There  is  'thinking' 
and  'thought,'  'perceiving'  and  'percept,'  'remembering' 


REALISTIC  THEORY   OF   MIND  275 

and  'memory.'  A  similar  duality  between  sensing  and 
sense-content  accounts  for  the  ambiguity  of  the  term 
'sensation.'  In  the  discussion  that  follows  I  shall  employ 
first  the  method  of  introspection  and  then  the  method 
of  observation;  examining  by  each  method,  first,  the 
contents  of  mind,  and  second,  the  action  of  mind. 


II.  THE  METHOD  OF  INTROSPECTION 

§  3.  It  is  well  known  that  much  the  most  convenient 
method  of  discovering  what  is  in  my  mind  is  to  consult  me. 
Mental  Content  *  can  amrm  the  fact  with  superior  ease  and 
as  Revealed  by  certainty.  At  the  same  time,  of  course,  I  may 
introspection  be  absoiuteiy  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the 
fact.  The  subject  of  a  psychological  experiment  is  best 
qualified  when  he  has  no  ideas  concerning  the  nature  of  his 
mind.  He  is  called  on  to  affirm  or  deny  awareness  of 
a  given  object,  to  register  the  time  of  his  awareness,  or 
to  report  the  object  (not  given)  of  which  he  is  aware. 
Introspection  thus  yields  an  identification  and  inventory  of 
mental  contents. 

Suppose  my  mind  to  be  an  object  of  study.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  necessary  to  collect  my  past  experiences.  For 
this  purpose  the  method  of  introspection  is  convenient  and 
fruitful.  I  have  myself  been  keeping  a  record  of  my  expe- 
riences automatically,  and  by  virtue  of  the  capacity  of 
recollection  I  can  recover  them  at  will.  This  method  is 
reserved  for  the  use  of  the  mind  that  originally  had  the 
experiences.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  facts  cannot  be 
known  except  in  so  far  as  remembered  by  me.  It  would 
be  absurd  to  say  that  the  fact  that  I  saw  the  King  of 
Saxony  in  the  year  1903,  is  lost  to  knowledge  except  in  so 
far  as  I  can  retrospectively  recover  it.  An  observant 
bystander  would  have  known  it  at  the  time,  or  it  may 
be  a  matter  of  general  knowledge.  But  the  convenience 
afforded  by  my  memory  is  apparent.  For  in  this  way  I 
may  recall  and  verify  the  experience  in  question,  and  thus 


276        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

secure  something  approximately  equivalent  to  its  empirical 
presence;  and,  furthermore,  my  memory  preserves  not  only 
this,  but  also  other  experiences  likewise  mine,  and  so 
already  selected  and  grouped  with  reference  to  a  study  of 
my  particular  mind. 

Or,  suppose  that  the  study  of  my  mind  requires  knowl- 
edge of  its  present  content.  I,  who  must  in  the  nature  of 
the  case  be  having  the  object  in  mind,  can  have  before  me 
simultaneously  the  additional  fact  of  its  being  in  my  mind. 
Such  an  introspective  experience  is  commonly  available, 
and  while  it  is  not  a  penetrating  or  definitive  knowledge  of 
the  fact,  it  is  a  discovery  of  the  fact. 

It  is  doubtless  true,  then,  that  a  record  of  the  contents 
of  a  mind  is  most  conveniently  obtained  by  introspection. 
This  superior  or  even  unique  accessibility  of  certain  facts 
to  certain  observers  is  not  unusual;  indeed,  it  is  a  corollary 
of  the  method  of  observation.  Every  natural  object  has 
what  may  be  called  its  cognitive  orientation,  defining 
vantage  points  of  observation.  Data  concerning  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  are  peculiarly  accessible  to  man,  and 
data  concerning  the  twentieth  century  to  those  alive  at 
the  time.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  man  knows  the 
earth  best,  or  that  we  of  the  present  day  know  the  twentieth 
century  best.  Still  less  does  it  mean  that  our  knowledge 
is  exclusive.  It  means  only  that  we  are  so  situated  as  to 
enjoy  certain  inductive  advantages.  If  a  man  were  to  add 
up  his  property  as  he  accumulated  it,  he  would  always  be 
in  a  position  to  report  promptly  on  the  past  and  present 
amount  thereof;  but  it  would  not  be  profitable  to  argue 
that  property  is,  therefore,  such  as  to  be  known  only,  or 
even  best,  by  its  owner.  So  any  individual  mind  is  most 
handily  acquainted  with  its  own  experiences,  past  and 
present.  The  circumstances  of  its  history  and  organization 
are  such  that  without  any  exertion,  or  even  any  special 
theoretical  interest,  it  is  familiar  with  the  facts.  But  this 
argues  nothing  unique  or  momentous.  It  may  easily  be 
that  while  introspection  is  the  best  method  of  collecting 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  277 

cases  of  mental  content,  it  is  the  poorest  method  of  denning 
their  nature. 

§  4.  When  I  attempt  to  discover  the  generic  character- 
of  the  contents  revealed  by  introspection,  I  meet  at  once 
The  Neutral  ^h  a  most  significant  fact.  Distributively, 
Elements  of  these  contents  coincide  with  other  manifolds, 
Th^NeedoU114'811011  as  nature,  history,  and  the  contents  of 
Unifying  other  minds.  In  other  words,  in  so  far  as  I 
divide  them  into  elements,  the  contents  of  my 
mind  exhibit  no  generic  character.  I  find  the  quality 
'blue,'  but  this  I  ascribe  also  to  the  book  which  lies 
before  me  on  the  table;  I  find  'hardness,'  but  this  I 
ascribe  also  to  the  physical  adamant;  or  I  find  number, 
which  my  neighbor  finds  also  in  his  mind.  In  other 
words,  the  elements  of  the  introspective  manifold  are  in 
themselves  neither  peculiarly  mental  nor  peculiarly  mine; 
they  are  neutral  and  interchangeable. 

It  is  only  with  respect  to  their  grouping  and  interrela- 
tions that  the  elements  of  mental  content  exhibit  any 
peculiarity.1  When  my  attention  is  directed  to  this,  I 
find  that  mental  contents,  as  compared,  for  example,  with 
physical  nature,  possess  a  characteristic  fragmentariness. 
Not  all  of  physical  nature,  nor  of  any  given  natural  body, 
is  in  my  mind.  And  the  particular  abstract  that  is  in 
my  mind  does  not  exactly  coincide  with  the  particular 
abstract  that  is  in  my  neighbor's  mind.  Furthermore,  the 
fragments  of  nature  that  find  their  way  into  my  mind 
acquire  thereby  a  peculiar  interrelation  and  compose  a 
peculiar  pattern. 

The  so-called  "relational  theory  of  consciousness"  has 
emphasized  this  fact  that  mental  content  is  distinguished, 
not  by  the  stuff  or  elements  of  which  it  is  composed,  but  by 
the  way  in  which  these  elements  are  composed;  in  other 
words,  by  the  composing  relation.  "In  consciousness," 

1  For  a  more  ample  treatment  of  this  matter,  cf.  my  article,  "Con- 
ceptions and  Misconceptions  of  Consciousness,"  Psychological  Review,  Vol. 
XI,  1904. 


278        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

says  Professor  Woodbridge,  "we  have  simply  an  instance 
of  the  existence  of  different  things  together,  .  .  .  conscious- 
ness is  only  a  form  of  connection  of  objects,  a  relation 
between  them."  As  James  expresses  it,  "consciousness 
connotes  a  kind  of  external  relation,  and  does  not  denote  a 
special  stuff  or  way  of  being."  l  Neither  of  these  authors, 
however,  offers  a  clear  account  of  what  this  peculiar  rela- 
tion or  form  of  connection  is.  James  at  times  identifies  it 
with  "the  function  of  knowing."  When  one  thing  means 
or  represents  another,  and  thus  assumes  the  status  of  idea, 
it  becomes  a  conscious  element.  But,  as  Professor  Wood- 
bridge  points  out,  this  relation  can  scarcely  be  the  generic 
relation  of  consciousness,  because  the  terms  between  which 
it  holds  are  already  '  experienced.'  And  James  himself 
explicitly  recognizes  the  possibility  of  immediately  experi- 
encing, without  the  mediation  of  ideas  at  all.  '  Meaning ' 
would  seem  to  be  the  relation  characteristic  of  discursive 
consciousness,  rather  than  of  consciousness  in  general.  As 
respects  such  a  general  type  of  relationship,  the  results  are 
on  the  whole  negative.  James  shows  that  it  is  different 
from  the  physical  type  of  relationship  ("mental  fire  is 
what  won't  burn  real  sticks").  Professor  Woodbridge 
"lays  greater  stress  on  what  consciousness  does  not  appear 
to  be  than  on  ...  that  type  of  connection  which  it  con- 
stitutes between  objects."  2 

Now  what  light  do  such  results  throw  on  the  nature  of 
mind?  It  seems  to  me  clear  that  they  contribute  only  a 
preliminary  induction.  They  doubtless  afford  unmistak- 
able evidence  of  a  special  and  important  grouping  of  ob- 
jects; but  they  do  not  reveal  the  principle  which  defines  the 
group.  It  is  admitted  that  contents  of  mind  coincide 

1  F.  J.  E.  Woodbridge:  "The  Nature  of  Consciousness,"  Jour,  of  Phil, 
Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  II.  1905,  pp.  120,  125;  James:  "Does 
Consciousness  Exist,"  in  the  same  Journal,  Vol.  I,  1904,  p.  486.  Cf.  also 
B.  H.  Bode:  "Some  Recent  Definitions  of  Consciousness,"  Psychological 
Review,  Vol.  XV,  1908. 

1  Woodbridge:  loc.  cit.;  James,  op.  cit.,  pp.  478,  489.  For  the  pragma- 
tist  view  of  discursive  consciousness,  cf.  above,  pp. 200  ff.  For  James's 
more  complete  view,  cf.  below,  pp.  350-354. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  279 

distributively,  or  element  for  element,  with  parts  of  nature. 
It  is  important,  then,  to  show  how  parts  of  nature  be- 
come contents  of  mind.  Natural  objects  do  not  enter 
wholly  into  mind.  Then  what  determines  their  fore- 
shortening and  abridgment?  An  individual  mind  gathers 
into  itself  a  characteristic  assemblage  of  fragments  of 
nature.  Under  what  conditions  does  this  occur?  When 
things  are  in  mind,  one  may  mean  or  represent  another. 
What  constitutes  being  in  mind? 

Until  such  questions  are  answered  realism  cannot  boast  of 
having  greatly  improved  upon  idealism.  "Consciousness," 
says  Professor  Natorp,  "is  inexplicable  and  hardly  describ- 
able,  yet  all  conscious  experiences  have  this  in  common, 
that  what  we  call  their  content  has  this  peculiar  reference  to 
a  center  for  which  'self  is  the  name,  in  virtue  of  which  refer- 
ence alone,  the  content  is  subjectively  given,  or  appears." 
It  is  as  important  for  the  realist  to  show  what  he  means  by 
his  "form  of  connection  "  as  it  is  for  the  idealist  to  show 
what  he  means  by  "this  peculiar  reference  to  a  center."  l 

§  5.  We  shall  find  that  it  is  impossible  to  find  the  com- 
mon bond  of  things  mental,  until  we  abandon  the  intro- 
Mentai  Action,  spective  method  and  view  mind  as  it  operates 
The  Alleged  m  fae  open  field  of  nature  and  history.  But 

Self-intuition       ,     ,  ,         .          ,  .  ,  , 

of  a  Pure  Spirit-  before  adopting  this  course  we  have  two  other 
uai  Activity  alternatives. 

In  the  first  and  more  popular  of  these  alternative  views, 
it  is  admitted  that  it  is  impossible  to  find  a  unique  quality 
in  mental  contents,  or  even  a  unique  interrelation  among 
them.  It  is  maintained  that  things  derive  their  mental 
character  from  that  which  acts  on  them.  My  contents  are 
the  passive  objects  of  my  active  perceiving,  thinking,  or 
willing.  This  action  of  mind  is  not  itself  content,  but  is 
the  common  and  unifying  correlate  of  all  content.  So  far 
this  view  is,  I  think,  substantially  correct.  The  defining 
relation  of  mind  is  a  kind  of  action,  and  it  will  not  be  found 

1  Paul  Natorp:  Einlcitung  in  die  Psychologic,  pp.  14,  112;  quoted  by 
James,  op.  cit.,  p.  479. 


280        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

amidst  the  content  which  it  defines.  But  in  the  present 
view  it  is  further  maintained  that  the  action  of  mind  is 
nevertheless  introspeciively  accessible  in  a  peculiar  way. 

I  refer  to  the  time-honored  theory  that  the  action  of  mind 
is  revealed  to  the  agent  himself  in  an  immediate  intuition. 
"Such  is  the  nature  of  Spirit,  or  that  which  acts,"  says 
Berkeley,  "that  it  cannot  be  of  itself  perceived  .  .  .  though 
it  must  be  owned  at  the  same  time  that  we  have  some 
notion  of  soul,  spirit,  and  the  operations  of  the  mind." 
The  inner  activity  of  consciousness  is  that  "life-form  of 
immediate  reality"  which  "is  lost  if  the  psychological 
abstractions  make  it  a  describable  object."  1 

Berkeley's  view  met  its  classic  refutation  in  Hume.  He 
showed  that  the  most  exhaustive  introspective  analysis  re- 
veals no  such  'creative  power,'  but  only  a  manifold  and 
nexus  of  contents.  Taken  "psychologically,"  says  Mr. 
Bradley, "the  revelation  is  fraudulent.  There  is  no  original 
experience  of  anything  like  activity."  The  supposition  that 
there  is  such  a  revelation  is  possible  only  provided  one 
refuses  to  analyze  a  certain  experience  into  its  elements. 
When  the  so-called  experience  of  mental  activity  is  so 
analyzed,  no  activity-element  is  found.  The  refusal  to 
analyze  what  can  be  and  has  been  analyzed  cannot  be 
justified  by  any  canon  of  rigorous  theoretical  procedure.2 
In  other  words,  the  intuitionist  theory  of  mental  activity 
is  an  instance  of  the  fallacy  of  'pseudo-simplicity.'  "The 
simplicity,  however,  of  the  representation  of  a  subject  is 
not  therefore  a  knowledge  of  the  simplicity  of  the  subject," 
says  Kant.  The  intuitionist  argument  rests  upon  a  con- 
fusion between  the  lack  of  complexity  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  subject  matter,  and  a  lack  of  complexity  in  the 
subject  matter  itself.3 

1  Berkeley:  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Eraser's  edition,  Vol.  I, 
p.  272;  Miinsterberg:  The  Eternal  Values,  p.  393. 

1  Hume:  Enquiry  concerning  Human  Understanding.  Section  VII, 
Part  I,  passim;  Bradley:  Appearance  and  Reality,  p.  116. 

1  Kant:  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,  trans,  by  Max  M tiller,  Second  Edition, 
pp.  289-290.  Cf.  above,  pp.  261-264. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  a8l 

Philosophy  is  peculiarly  liable  to  this  fallacy  in  the  case 
of  self-knowledge,  because  of  the  extraordinary  familiarity 
of  'self.'  No  one  is  so  well  acquainted  with  me  as  I  am 
with  myself.  Primarily  this  means  that  whereas  I  have 
known  myself  repeatedly,  and  perhaps  for  considerable 
intervals  continuously,  others  have  known  me  only  inter- 
mittently or  not  at  all.  To  myself  I  am  so  much  an  old 
story  that  I  may  easily  weary  of  myself.  I  do  weary  of 
myself,  however,  not  because  I  understand  myself  so  well, 
but  because  I  live  with  myself  so  much.  I  may  be  familiar 
to  the  point  of  ennui  with  things  I  understand  scarcely  at 
all.  Thus  I  may  be  excessively  familiar  with  a  volume  in 
the  family  library  without  having  ever  looked  between  the 
covers.  Indeed,  degrees  of  knowledge  are  as  likely  to  be 
inversely,  as  directly,  proportional  to  degrees  of  familiarity. 
Familiarity  is  arbitrary  like  all  habit,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  it  from  fixing  and  confirming  a  false  or  shallow 
opinion.  The  man  whom  we  meet  daily  on  the  street  is  a 
familiar  object.  But  we  do  not  tend  to  know  him  better. 
On  the  contrary,  our  opinion  tends  to  be  as  unalterable  as 
it  is  accidental  and  one-sided.  Everyone  is  familiar  with 
a  typical  facial  expression  of  the  President,  but  who  will 
claim  that  such  familiarity  conduces  to  knowledge  of  him? 
Similarly  my  familiarity  with  myself  may  actually  stand 
in  the  way  of  my  better  knowledge.  Because  of  it  I  may 
be  too  easily  satisfied  that  I  know  myself,  and  will  almost 
inevitably  believe  that  my  mind  as  I  commonly  know  it 
is  my  mind  in  its  essence.  It  cannot  be  said,  then,  that 
the  individual  mind's  extraordinary  familiarity  with  itself 
necessarily  means  that  its  knowledge  of  itself  is  exclusive 
or  even  superior.  On  the  contrary,  it  means  that  in  re- 
spect of  knowledge  of  itself  every  mind  is  peculiarly 
liable  to  over-simplification  —  to  the  assumption  that  knowl- 
edge is  complete  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  has  not  yet 
begun. 

These  considerations  also  discredit,  I  think,  the  virtue 
so  frequently  attributed  to  self-consciousness.  I  am  in- 


282        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

clined  to  believe  that  the  prominence  of  this  experience  in 
traditional  accounts  of  mind  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  is 
characteristically  habitual  with  philosophers.  What  but 
bias  could  have  led  to  the  opinion  that  self-consciousness 
is  typical  of  mind?  Surely  nothing  could  be  farther  from 
the  truth.  If  self-consciousness  means  anything,  it  means 
mind  functioning  in  an  elaborately  complicated  way.  Now 
one  may  test  a  definition  by  applying  it  to  complex  and 
derivative  forms,  but  one  learns  to  isolate  and  identify  a 
genus  from  a  study  of  its  simple  forms.  It  would  be 
consistent  with  sound  procedure,  then,  to  expect  to  under- 
stand mind-knowing-itself ,  only  after  one  has  an  elementary 
knowledge  of  the  general  nature  of  mind  and  the  special 
function  of  knowing.  Surely  in  this  respect,  at  least, 
philosophy  has  traditionally  lacked  the  sound  instinct  that 
has  guided  science. 

But  waiving  methodological  considerations,  what  is  to 
be  said  of  the  cognitive  value  of  my  self-consciousness? 
Suppose  me  to  be  as  habitually  self-conscious  as  the  most 
confirmed  philosopher.  Have  I  on  that  account  an  expert 
knowledge  of  self?  There  could  not,  it  seems  to  me,  be  a 
clearer  case  of  the  mistaking  of  habit  for  insight.  Upon 
examination  my  self-consciousness  resolves  itself  mainly 
into  familiar  images,  and  familiar  phrases  containing  my 
name  or  the  first  personal  pronoun,  such  as  'I  am/  'I 
will/  'I  think/  'I  act.'  But  these  phrases  are  perfectly 
typical  of  the  fixed  and  stereotyped  character  that  may  be 
acquired  by  a  confused  experience,  or,  indeed,  by  an  expe- 
rience that  is  nothing  more  than  the  verbal  formulation 
of  a  problem.  And  the  more  fixed  and  stereotyped  such 
experiences,  the  more  their  confusion  or  emptiness  is 
neglected.  This  is  the  true  explanation,  I  think,  of 
what  is  the  normal  state  of  mind  in  the  matter  of  self- 
knowledge.  Your  average  man  knows  himself,  "of  course," 
and  grasps  eagerly  at  words  and  phrases  imputing  to 
him  an  esoteric  knowledge  of  soul;  but  he  can  render 
no  intelligible  account  of  it.  That  he  has  never  attempted; 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  283 

he  is  secure  only  when  among  those  as  easily  satisfied  as 
himself. 

Who  is  so  familiar  with  farming  as  the  farmer?  But 
he  despises  the  innovations  of  the  theorist,  because  rou- 
tine has  warped,  limited,  and  at  the  same  time  intensi- 
fied his  opinions;  with  the  consequence  that  while  no  one 
is  more  intimately  familiar  with  farming  than  he,  no  one, 
perhaps,  is  more  hopelessly  blinded  to  its  real  principles. 
Now  it  is  my  lot  to  be  a  self-conscious  mind.  I  have 
practised  self -consciousness  habitually,  and  it  is  certain  that 
no  one  is  so  familiar  with  myself  as  I.  But  I  have  little  to 
show  for  it  all:  the  articulatory  image  of  my  name,  the 
visual  image  of  my  social  presence,  and  a  few  poor  phrases. 
There  is  a  complex  state  to  which  I  can  turn  when  I  will, 
but  it  is  a  page  more  thumbed  than  read.  And  I  am  lucky 
if  I  have  not  long  ago  become  glibly  innocent  of  my  igno- 
rance and  joined  the  ranks  of  those  who  deliver  confusion 
with  the  unction  of  profundity,  and  the  name  of  the  prob- 
lem with  the  pride  of  mastery.  No  —  so  far  I  cannot  see 
that  the  royal  road  to  a  knowledge  of  self-activity  has  led 
beyond  the  slough  of  complacency.  Either  appeal  is  made 
to  what  everyone  "of  course"  knows,  to  the  mere  dogma 
of  familiarity,  or  stereotyped  verbalisms  and  other  con- 
fused experiences  are  solemnly  cherished  as  though  the 
warmth  of  the  philosophical  bosom  could  somehow  invest 
them  with  life. 

§  6.  I  am  confident  that  the  nature  of  mental  action 

is  discoverable  neither  by  an  analysis  of  mental  contents 

nor  by  self-intuition ;  that  it  is  necessary,  in 

Mental  Action       .       -*  ,         ,          V  Al  ,r  ,  i 

as  the  Feeling  short,  to  abandon  the  method  of  self-knowl- 
edge  alt°getner>  and  substitute  that  of  general 
observation.  But  in  the  interests  of  thorough- 
ness it  is  desirable  to  examine  what  at  first  glance  appears  to 
afford  a  reasonable  compromise.  I  refer  to  the  view  that 
construes  mental  action  as  a  peculiar  introspective  complex. 
This  view  is  commonly  held  by  those  who  reject  the  last. 
The  intuition  of  a  "Simon-pure  activity,"  or  an  "activity 


284        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

an  sick"  is  rejected  on  grounds  of  introspective  analysis. 
But  analysis  at  the  same  time  reveals  a  characteristic 
activity  process,  composed  of  sensations  of  bodily  exertion 
and  strain,  or  of  feelings  of  "the  tendency,  the  obstacle, 
the  will,  the  strain,  the  triumph,  or  the  passive  giving 
up."  James  has  suggested  that  this  process  can  be  re- 
duced to  still  smaller  proportions.  "Whenever  my  intro- 
spective glance  succeeds  in  turning  round  quickly  enough 
to  catch  one  of  these  manifestations  of  spontaneity  in  the 
act,  all  it  can  ever  feel  distinctly  is  some  bodily  process, 
for  the  most  part  taking  place  within  the  head."  "  It  would 
follow  that  our  entire  feeling  of  spiritual  activity,  or  what 
commonly  passes  by  that  name,  is  really  a  feeling  of  bodily 
activities  whose  exact  nature  is  by  most  men  overlooked." 1 

There  are  several  objections  to  this  version  of  mental 
action.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  evident  that  the  feeling 
of  action  belongs  to  the  content  of  the  mind,  and  there- 
fore cannot  be  that  general  action  by  virtue  of  which  things 
become  content.  It  is  not  the  correlate  of  content  in 
general,  but  only  of  certain  other  content  such  as  percepts 
and  ideas.  There  is  need  of  a  kind  of  mental  action  that 
shall  account  for  the  presence  in  mind  of  this  very  activity- 
complex  itself. 

Furthermore,  there  is  an  evident  confusion  in  regarding 
the  feeling  of  action  as  itself  action.  It  is  necessary,  as 
the  spiritists  and  transcendentalists  have  rightly  main- 
tained, to  suppose  some  kind  of  action  that  shall  bring 
contents  together,  and  give  them  the  peculiar  unthin-mind 
unity  which  they  possess.  A  consciousness  of  a  and  b 
is  not  a  consciousness  of  a  and  a  consciousness  of  6.  And 
the  feeling  of  action  is  no  more  capable  of  effecting  this 
conjunction  than  is  any  other  content.  A  consciousness 
of  "intra-cephalic  movements"  and  the  movements  of 
an  external  body,  a  unity  of  consciousness  in  which  these 
are  present  together,  cannot  derive  its  unity  from  a  con- 

1  James:  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  376,  380;  Principles  of  Psychology, 
Vol.  I,  pp.  300,  301-302;  cf.  below,  pp.  354-356. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  285 

sciousness  of  the  one  any  more  than  from  the  consciousness 
of  the  other.  Both  movements  must  be  subtended  by 
some  action  that  operates  on  them  jointly.  James  is  correct 
in  supposing  that  the  experience  of  bodily  action  is  pecu- 
liarly significant.  It  constitutes  a  core  or  nucleus  of  con- 
tent that  is  more  constant  than  the  rest.  It  constitutes 
a  permanent  background  which  persists  while  the  more 
conspicuous  objects  in  the  foreground  vary;  and  is  thus 
an  important  factor  in  the  sense  of  personal  identity. 
But  it  is  none  the  less  content,  and  so  prevented  from 
serving  as  the  agency  which  defines  content  as  such,  and 
gives  it  its  characteristic  unity. 

The  true  solution  of  the  matter  lies  near  at  hand.  If 
instead  of  defining  mental  action  in  terms  of  the  feeling 
of  bodily  activities,  he  had  defined  it  in  terms  of  the  bodily 
action  itself,  as  he  sometimes  appears  to  do,  these  diffi- 
culties would  have  been  obviated.1  But  this  would  have 
required  the  abandonment  of  the  introspective  method. 
For  those  bodily  actions  which  now  become  most  signifi- 
cant are  only  accidentally,  if  at  all,  felt  by  the  conscious 
agent  himself .  A  sound  'listened  to'  or  'heard/  is,  by 
virtue  of  that  action,  mental  content.  Several  sounds 
listened  to  or  heard  jointly  compose  a  mental  unity.  But 
precisely  what  is  the  nature  of  listening  or  hearing  ? 
He  who  listens  or  hears  is  poorly  qualified  to  say.  The 
way  it  feels  to  listen  or  hear  has  little  if  anything  to  do 
with  the  matter.  For  listening  and  hearing  are  operations 
of  the  living  organism,  or  specific  operations  of  the  nervous 
system,  which  lie  in  the  field  of  general  observation.  And 
it  is  no  more  necessary  to  suppose  that  their  nature  is 
revealed  to  the  agent  which  exercises  them,  than  to  sup- 
pose that  the  nature  of  breathing  is  revealed  to  him  who 
breathes. 

1  "So  far  as  we  are  'persons,'  and  contrasted  and  opposed  to  an  'en- 
vironment,' movements  in  our  body  figure  as  our  activities."  (Pluralistic 
Universe,  p.  379,  note.) 


286        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 


III.    THE  METHOD  OF  GENERAL  OBSERVATION 

§  7.  While  proceeding  to  treat  mind  as   though,  like 
any  other  thing,  it  were  open  to  general  observation,  I 


The  Alleged  at    tne    Same    t^me   See^   to   rePly    to 

impossibility  objections  which  are  ordinarily  urged  against 
thfconTe^fs  such  procedure.  Most  philosophers  assume 
of  Another  that  it  is  essentially  characteristic  of  a  mind 
Mind  to  be  accessible  only  to  itself.  This  prop- 

osition is  rarely  supported  by  evidence;  it  is  commonly 
held  to  be  sufficient  to  call  attention  to  it.  Thus  it  is 
asserted  that  "the  essence  of  a  person  is  not  what  he  is 
for  another,  but  what  he  is  for  himself.  It  is  there  that 
his  principium  individuationis  is  to  be  found  —  in  what  he 
is,  when  looked  at  from  the  inside."1  As  another  writer 
expresses  it,  "That  the  mind  of  each  human  being  forms 
a  region  inaccessible  to  all  save  its  possessor,  is  one  of  the 
commonplaces  of  reflection."2 

These  are  formulations  of  an  almost  universal  presup- 
position. I  believe  this  presupposition,  as  ill-defined  and 
unreasonable  as  it  is  universal,  to  be  the  greatest  present 
obstacle  to  the  clear  and  conclusive  definition  of  mind. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  propriety  of  distinguishing 
'internal'  and  'external'  views  of  the  mind,  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  the  practical  or  other  circumstantial 
importance  of  emphasizing  self-knowledge.  But  I  do  not 
believe  that  such  distinction  and  emphasis  lead  properly 
to  any  generalization  such  as  those  which  I  have  quoted; 
nor  do  I  believe  that  they  contribute  fundamentally  to 
the  definition  of  mind. 

The  notion  of  the  privacy  of  mental  contents  rests 
mainly  upon  the  fallacy  of  'exclusive  particularity.'  It  is 
characteristic  of  content  of  mind,  such  as  perceptions  and 
ideas,  to  belong  to  individual  minds.  My  idea  is  mine; 
and  in  some  sense,  then,  falls  within  my  mind.  From 

1  H.  Rashdall,  in  Personal  Idealism,  edited  by  H.  Sturt,  p.  383. 
"  M.  F.  Washburn,  The  Animal  Mind,  p.  i. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  287 

this  it  is  hastily  concluded  that  it  is  therefore  exclusively 
mine.  Now  it  is  clear  that  my  idea  cannot  be  alien- 
ated from  my  mind,  without  contradiction.  It  must 
not  be  attributed  to  the  not-my-mind  which  is  the  other 
term  of  a  disjunctive  dichotomy.  But  it  does  not  follow 
that  my  idea  may  not  also  be  your  idea.  There  are  many 
such  cases.  Friends  are  essentially  such  as  to  belong  to 
friends,  and  my  friend  is  veritably  mine;  but  he  may, 
without  contradiction,  become  yours  also.  Similarly,  my 
home,  my  parents,  my  country,  although  in  order  to  be 
what  they  are  they  must  be  possessed  by  such  as  me,  may 
without  logical  difficulty  be  shared  with  you. 

But  I  may  seem  to  have  overlooked  a  vital  point.  Al- 
though one  thing  can  be  the  object  both  of  my  idea  and  of 
yours,  can  my  idea  itself  be  also  yours?  Does  not  the  whole 
being  of  my  idea  lie  in  its  relation  to  me?  Doubtless 
Neptune  may  become  my  idea,  and  also  yours;  but  can 
my  idea  of  Neptune  ever  become  an  idea  of  yours?  Now 
this  clearly  depends  upon  whether  the  determination  of 
Neptune  which  makes  it  my  idea  can  itself  submit  to 
another  determination  of  the  same  type.  There  is  no  a 
priori  objection  that  would  not  beg  the  very  question  under 
discussion.  Here  again  cases  from  other  classes  of  objects 
are  very  common.  The  sum  of  three  and  three  may  itself 
be  added  to  three;  you  may  paint  me  in  the  act  of  paint- 
ing my  model;  the  general  may  fear  the  fear  of  his  army. 
And,  similarly,  a  thing's  relation  to  me  as  my  idea,  may 
enter  into  another  such  relation  to  you  and  become  your 
idea.  It  will  doubtless  remain  true  that  my  idea  simply, 
and  your  idea  of  my  idea,  will  differ  through  the  accession 
of  the  last  cognitive  relationship;  and  that  in  this  sense 
my  idea  cannot  be  completely  identical  with  your  idea. 
But  it  is  impossible  even  to  state  this  trivial  proposition 
without  granting  that  you  may  know  my  idea,  which  is 
the  point  at  issue. 

The  mere  fact,  then,  that  ideas  are  always  included 
within  some  mind,  and  thereby  excluded  from  what  is 


288        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

altogether  not  that  mind,  contributes  no  evidence  for  the 
absolute  privacy  of  mind.  Any  group  whatsoever  is 
private,  in  the  sense  that  what  is  in  it  cannot  by  definition 
be  outside  of  it,  nor  what  is  outside  of  it  in  it.  But  this 
does  not  prevent  what  is  inside  of  it  from  being  also  inside 
of  something  else,  nor  does  it  prevent  the  entire  group 
from  being  inside  of  another  like  group.  Everything 
depends  on  the  particular  nature  of  the  groups  in  question. 
And  we  have  already  found  it  necessary  to  classify  minds 
among  intersecting  rather  than  exclusive  systems.  Indeed, 
such  a  classification  would  seem  to  be  necessarily  implied 
in  the  general  conception  of  social  intercourse.  How, 
then,  are  we  to  explain  the  widespread  disposition  to  regard 
minds  as  exclusive? 

In  the  first  place,  we  readily  extend  to  our  minds  the 
group  relation  which  holds  in  the  case  of  our  bodies.  There 
is  a  special  sense  in  which  things  are  inside  and  outside  of 
the  mind,  but  it  tends  naturally  to  be  confused  with  the 
sense  in  which  things  are  inside  and  outside  of  the  body. 
The  tendency  is  partly  a  misuse  of  schematic  imagery,  and 
partly  a  practical  bias  for  the  bodily  aspect  of  the  mind. 
Suffice  it  here  to  remark  that  the  mutual  exclusiveness 
of  our  bodies  is  so  highly  emphasized,  that  even  the  vaguest 
supposition  that  our  minds  are  within  our  skins,  is  suffi- 
cient to  give  rise  to  a  notion  that  they  too  are  wholly  out- 
side one  another.  Such  a  supposition  is  generally  admitted 
to  be  false,  but  it  nevertheless  lingers  on  the  scene;  and 
not  only  falsifies  the  grouping  of  mind,  but  exaggerates  the 
difficulty  of  knowing  mind  from  the  standpoint  of  general 
observation. 

In  the  second  place,  various  motives,  methodological, 
religious,  and  social,  have  so  emphasized  the  difference 
between  mind  and  mind,  or  between  the  individual  mind 
and  the  outer  world,  that  this  difference  tends  to  be  trans- 
formed into  a  relation  of  exclusiveness.  Psychological 
introspection,  when  superficially  interpreted,  defines  a 
region  set  apart  from  nature  and  society.  Religious 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  289 

introspection  heightens  the  difference  between  the  inner 
life  and  the  life  of  the  world.  The  problems  of  personal 
morality  under  complex  social  conditions  tend  to  heighten 
the  difference  between  individual  lives.  Such  a  proposition 
as  "No  one  else  can  understand  me"  has  only  to  become 
familiar  and  practically  intensified,  to  be  converted  readily 
into  an  absolute  principle.  Thus  the  difficulty  of  knowing 
certain  aspects  of  another  mind  tends  to  be  mistaken  for 
the  impossibility  of  the  entrance  of  mind  into  mind.  Pro- 
verbial difficulties  easily  become  logical  impossibilities. 
To  avoid  gross  confusion  it  is  necessary  to  examine  the 
difficulties  concretely  and  circumstantially;  to  point  out 
the  conditions  under  which  they  arise,  and  the  elements 
of  mind  which  they  tend  to  obscure. 

§  8.  Beyond  question  the  content  of  an  individual 
mind  at  any  given  time  may  be  successfully  hidden  from 
general  observation.  But  this  in  itself  does 
not  imPly  any  general  proposition  to  the 
Mental  Con-  effect  that  a  mind  is  essentially  such  as  to  be 
absolutely  cut  off  from  such  observation.  It 
may  be  that  your  inability  to  discover  what  I 
am  imagining,  thinking  about,  or  remembering,  is  only 
like  the  assessor's  inability  to  discover  the  amount  of  my 
property;  and  no  one  has  asserted  that  property  is  essen- 
tially knowable  only  to  its  owner.  Let  us  examine  the 
circumstances. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  evident  that  under  favorable  cir- 
cumstances you  have  no  difficulty  in  following  my  mind. 
Where,  for  example,  we  are  engaged  in  such  intercourse 
as  involves  a  bodily  dealing  with  physical  objects,  it  is  as 
easy  as  it  is  indispensable  for  each  to  know  what  is  in  the 
mind  of  the  other.  The  objects  themselves  here  provide 
mutually  accessible  content  in  a  manner  that  is  unmistak- 
able. A  clear  case  in  point  is  the  exchange  of  currency  for 
merchandise;  but  to  illustrate  the  experience  exhaustively 
would  be  to  traverse  nine-tenths  of  life.  Such  mutual 
apprehension  of  the  physical  things  which  you  and  I  have 


2QO        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

in  mind  is  the  condition  of  all  intercourse  between  us; 
we  could  not  shake  hands  without  it. 

There  is  another  way  in  which  you  readily  follow  my 
mind,  namely,  through  my  verbal  report.  We  do  not  often 
sit  down  and  deliberately  disclose  our  minds  to  one  another; 
more  commonly  we  use  language  to  the  end  that  we  may 
together  think  the  same  things.  But  if  you  are  a  psychol- 
ogist, or  an  interpreter  of  dreams,  I  may  "tell"  you  what 
is  in  my  mind.  Now  it  is  frequently  assumed  by  the 
sophisticated  that  when  I  thus  verbally  reveal  my  mind 
you  do  not  directly  know  it.  You  are  supposed  directly 
to  know  only  my  words.  But  I  cannot  understand  such 
a  supposition,  unless  it  means  simply  that  you  know  my 
mind  only  after  and  through  hearing  my  words.  If  it  is 
necessary  for  you  to  take  a  book  from  the  shelf  and  turn 
over  its  pages  before  you  can  discover  the  date  of  Kant's 
birth,  or  walk  across  the  street  before  you  can  discover  the 
number  of  your  neighbor's  house,  do  you  therefore  not 
know  these  things  directly  when  you  do  know  them? 
And  if  you  must  wait  until  I  tell  you  before  you  know 
what  image  is  in  my  mind,  do  you  therefore  not  know  the 
image  directly  when  you  do  know  it?  If  not,  then  what 
do  you  know  directly  when  the  matter  is  concluded? 
Surely  not  the  word;  for  this  having  served  its  turn,  receives 
no  further  notice.  It  is  not  the  word  which  is  communi- 
cated, except  in  the  wholly  exceptional  cases  in  which  the 
word  is  not  understood  and  so  does  not  fulfil  its  function. 
And  it  is  certainly  implied  in  all  of  our  subsequent  action 
and  intercourse  relating  to  the  image,  that  we  have  access 
to  it  jointly,  just  as  we  do  to  our  money  and  our  lands; 
that  you  know  it  now  even  as  I  know  it. 

It  is  important  to  labor  under  no  misapprehension  con- 
cerning the  general  function  of  language.  Language  does 
not  arise  as  the  external  manifestation  of  an  internal  idea, 
but  as  the  means  of  fixing  and  identifying  abstract  aspects 
of  experience.  If  I  wish  to  direct  your  attention  to  the  ring 
on  my  finger,  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  point  to  it  or  hand 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  291 

it  to  you.  In  seeing  me  thus  deal  with  the  ring,  you  know 
that  it  engages  my  attention,  and  there  occurs  a  moment 
of  communication  in  which  our  minds  unite  on  the  object. 
The  ring  figures  in  your  mind  even  as  it  does  in  mine ;  indeed 
the  fact  that  the  ring  does  so  figure  in  my  mind  will  prob- 
ably occur  to  you  when  it  does  not  to  me.  If,  however,  I 
wish  to  call  your  attention  to  the  yellowness  of  the  ring, 
it  will  not  do  simply  to  handle  it.  The  whole  object  will 
not  suffice  as  a  means  of  identifying  its  element.  Hence 
the  need  of  a  system  of  symbols  complex  enough  to  keep 
pace  with  the  subtlety  of  discrimination.  Now  the  im- 
portant thing  to  bear  in  mind  is  the  fact  that  as  a  certain 
practical  dealing  with  bodies  constitutes  gross  communi- 
cation, so  language  constitutes  refined  communication. 
There  is  no  difference  of  objectivity  or  subjectivity.  In 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  mind  is  open  to  mind,  making 
possible  a  coalescence  of  content  and  the  convergence  of 
action  on  a  common  object. 

For  purposes  of  further  illustration,  consider  the  case  of 
disguised  perception.  I  am  watching  you  "out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye,"  hoping  to  deceive  you  as  to  my  real 
thoughts.  If  the  strategy  is  successful  it  proves  that  I 
can  render  equivocal  the  evidence  you  commonly  rely  on. 
But  does  any  one  seriously  suppose  that  the  direction  of 
my  thoughts  is  not  discoverably  there  in  the  retinal  and 
nervous  process  responding  to  your  body,  and  in  my  in- 
tention to  deceive?  Where  my  mind  is  the  object  to  be 
known,  I  can  embarrass  the  observer  because  I  can  control 
the  object.  I  can  even  make  and  unmake  my  mind.  As 
you  seek  to  follow  my  thoughts,  I  may  accelerate  them  or 
double  on  my  tracks  to  throw  you  off  the  scent.  But 
I  enjoy  the  same  advantage  over  you  if  you  are  an  assessor 
seeking  to  know  my  property,  and  neither  in  the  one  case 
nor  in  the  other  is  it  proved  that  the  facts  are  not  there 
for  you  to  know  as  well  as  I.  Indeed  the  special  qualifying 
conditions  to  which  we  are  compelled  to  refer  when  describ- 
ing the  hidden  mind,  leave  no  doubt  that  the  difficulties 


292        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

in  this  case  are  essentially  like  the  difficulties  which  check 
or  thwart  any  cognitive  enterprise.  Some  things  are 
more  difficult  to  observe  than  others,  and  all  things  are 
difficult  to  observe  under  certain  circumstances.  This 
is  true  of  mind  in  no  mysterious  or  unique  way. 

§  9.  Sensations  of  the  internal  states  of  the  organism 
itself  present  a  peculiar  case,  that  is  of  sufficient  impor- 
Proprio-ceptive  tance  to  receive  independent  treatment.  Con- 
Sensations  cerning  certain  happenings  within  my  body, 
I  am,  so  to  speak,  the  only  eye-witness.  This  circumstance 
plays  a  very  important  part  in  the  unique  self-knowledge 
imputed  to  the  mind,  and  in  particular,  I  believe,  lends 
specious  significance  to  the  self-conscious  and  introspective 
experiences  which  have  just  been  examined.  Let  us  first 
set  down  the  general  facts  in  the  case. 

A  leading  physiologist  writes  as  follows:  "Bedded  in 
the  surface  layer  of  the  organism  are  numbers  of  receptor 
cells  constituted  in  adaptation  to  the  stimuli  delivered  by 
environmental  agencies.  [These  receptors  the  author 
calls  "e#fer0-ceptors."]  But  the  organism  itself,  like  the 
world  surrounding  it,  is  a  field  of  ceaseless  change,  where 
internal  energy  is  continually  being  liberated,  whence 
chemical,  thermal,  mechanical,  and  electrical  effects  appear. 
It  is  a  microcosm  in  which  forces  which  can  act  as  stimuli 
are  at  work  as  in  the  macrocosm  around.  The  deep  tissues 
.  .  .  have  receptors  specific  to  themselves.  The  receptors 
which  lie  in  the  depth  of  the  organism  are  adapted  for 
excitation  consonantly  with  changes  going  on  in  the  organ- 
ism itself,  particularly  in  its  muscles  and  their  accessory 
organs  (tendons,  joints,  blood-vessels,  etc.).  Since  in  this 
field  the  stimuli  to  the  receptors  are  given  by  the  organism 
itself,  their  field  may  be  called  the  proprio-ceptive  field."  x 

Now  my  body  lies  beyond  the  periphery  of  every  other 
body,  and  can,  therefore,  be  generally  observed  only  by 
"  extero-ceptive  "  organs,  such  as  those  of  vision,  touch,  etc. 

1  C.  S.  Sherrington:  The  Integrative  Action  of  the  Nervous  System,  pp. 
129-130. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  293 

But  while  I  may  also  observe  myself  in  this  fashion,  my 
"  proprio-ceptors "  enable  me  alone  to  know  my  body 
in  another  way.  There  is  no  occult  reason  for  this;  it 
is  a  matter  of  physiological  organization.  I  am  sensible  of 
interior  pressure  and  strain,  or  of  the  motion  and  muscular 
control  of  my  limbs,  in  a  manner  impossible  for  any  other 
observer,  simply  because  no  other  observer  is  nervously 
connected  with  them  as  I  am.  I  alone  can  be  specifically 
sensible  of  loss  of  equilibrium,  because  my  semicircular 
canals,  though  visible  and  tangible  to  others,  have  a  contin- 
uous nervous  connection  with  my  brain  alone.  More  im- 
portant is  the  fact  that  I  am  sensible  in  a  very  complex 
way  of  states  and  changes  in  my  visceral,  circulatory,  and 
respiratory  systems.  Here,  again,  I  am  possessed  of  sen- 
sations from  which  other  observers  are  cut  off  for  lack  of 
certain  nerve  fibres  which  connect  these  organs  only  with 
my  cerebral  centres. 

Now  what  is  the  inference  from  these  facts?  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  these  sensations  constitute 
knowledge  of  the  body,  and  not  of  mind  in  the  traditional 
sense.  I  have  a  species  of  cognitive  access  to  the  interior 
of  my  body  from  which  all  other  knowers  are  excluded. 
My  heart  palpitates  for  me  as  it  palpitates  for  no  one  else. 
But  as  it  has  never  been  argued  that  a  physical  organism 
is  a  thing  known  only  to  the  mind  inhabiting  it,  let  us 
present  the  matter  in  another  way.  My  mind  possesses 
sense-contents  that  can  not  be  similarly  presented  in 
any  other  mind.  I  alone  can  "have"  these  sensations. 
But  does  it  follow  that  you  cannot  know  them?  Firstly, 
there  is  nothing  in  the  sensation  that  you  cannot  know. 
The  peculiar  quality  of  heart-palpitation  is  known  to  you 
in  other  instances ;  and  the  bodily  locality  which  makes  it 
mine  is  immediately  perceived  by  you.  These  factors  must, 
it  is  true,  be  put  together  by  you,  but  the  result  is  never- 
theless knowledge.  And  secondly,  there  is  nothing  about 
the  sensation  that  you  cannot  know  even  better  than  I. 
If  I  were  to  follow  up  the  mere  presentation  of  the  sensa- 


294        PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

tion,  and  proceed  to  an  adequate  knowledge  of  it,  I  would 
necessarily  rely  on  anatomical  and  physiological  methods 
that  have  from  the  first  been  open  to  you.  Indeed,  here 
I  am  seriously  embarrassed;  for  as  you  are  cut  off  from 
proprio-ceptive  sensations  of  my  bodily  interior,  so  I  am 
largely  cut  off  from  the  extero-ceptive  sensations  which 
are  much  more  indispensable  to  a  knowledge  of  sense- 
structure  and  function.  In  short,  certain  things  are  pre- 
sented in  a  characteristic  way  to  me  alone.  I  alone  can 
have  proprio-ceptive  sensations  of  my  own  body.  In  order 
that  you  may  know  the  interior  of  my  body  it  is  necessary 
for  you  to  use  your  imagination,  or  some  other  relatively 
elaborate  process. 

Is  this  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  mind  can  be  known 
only  by  itself?  If  so,  then  that  contention  loses  all  of  its 
momentousness.  For  this  is  only  a  case  of  a  very  large 
class.  It  may  even  be  contended  that  all  existent  things 
are  such  as  to  be  presented  instantly  and  simply  only  to 
a  privileged  group  of  knowers.  In  so  far  as  spacial,  events 
can  be  sensibly  known  only  by  those  who  enjoy  a  certain 
definable  proximity,  and  in  so  far  as  temporal  only  by 
contemporaries.  But  this  does  not  withdraw  them  from 
the  general  field  of  knowledge.  I  must  use  my  imagina- 
tion to  know  what  the  East  Indian  may  know  by  opening 
his  eyes;  but  my  knowledge  may  none  the  less  exceed  his. 
And  furthermore,  even  if  it  were  granted  that  proprio- 
ceptive  sensations  can  be  known  only  irrespectively,  I 
can  scarcely  believe  that  those  who  emphasize  the  uniquely 
internal  character  of  mind  mean  that  the  mind  consists  in 
a  confused  and  partial  knowledge  of  the  interior  of  the 
physical  body! 

A  word  more  is  necessary  to  show  the  full  importance  of 
the  matter.  The  experiences  on  which  I  most  rely  for  a 
knowledge  of  myself  as  mental  agent  or  subject  contain  an 
admixture  of  proprio-ceptive  sensations.  The  very  act  of 
self-consciousness  is  itself  attended  by  characteristic  sensa- 
tions due  to  bodily  posture  and  respiratory  changes.  But 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  295 

above  all,  the  experience  of  self-activity  or  effort  is  largely 
made  up  of  sensations  of  internal  motion  and  strain.  These 
experiences  are  stereotyped, obscure,  and  largely  accidental. 
But  there  is,  nevertheless,  a  propriety  not  commonly 
recognized,  in  regarding  the  proprio-ceptive  experience 
so  far  as  it  goes  as  really  a  knowledge  of  self.  For  my 
proprio-ceptive  experience  is  largely  a  knowledge  of  my 
organic  action  on  the  environment,  and  it  is  this  action  when 
construed  in  a  certain  manner  that  really  constitutes 
mental  action.1 

§  10.  As  respects  the  accessibility  of  my  mental  con- 
tents to  your  observation,  the  most  important  general 

The  Content  of  *act  *s  ^s:  ^at  your  observation  will  be 
Desire,  Memory  baffled  just  in  so  far  as  my  dealings  with  the 
and  Thought  ^^  ^  mVw/  ar(,  M0,  peripheral.  Con- 
trary to  a  common  philosophical  opinion,  my  purpose, 
intention,  or  desire  is  least  likely  to  escape  you.  This 
element  of  my  mind  is  revealed  even  in  my  gross  action, 
in  the  motions  of  my  body  as  a  whole.  Your  apprehen- 
sion of  it  is  as  sure  and  as  indispensable  to  social  relations 
as  your  apprehension  of  the  physical  objects  that  engage 
my  attention.  The  content  of  my  purpose,  that  is,  the 
realization  proposed,  and  my  more  or  less  consistent  de- 
votion to  it,  are  in  your  full  view,  whether  you  be  a  historian 
of  character  or  a  familiar  companion.  It  is  not,  then,  the 
desiderative  element  in  mind  that  escapes  observation, 
nor  is  it  any  such  typical  element,  but  all  content  in  so 
far  as  the  mind's  dealings  with  it  do  not  reach  the  visible 
exterior  of  the  body.  But  what  is  implied  in  this  very 
statement? 
In  the  first  place,  we  imply  that  the  content  in  question 

1  Cf.  Sherrington,  op.  cit.:  "The  other  character  of  the  stimulations  in 
this  field  (the  proprio-ceptive')  we  held  to  be  that  the  stimuli  are  given  in 
much  greater  measure  than  in  the  surface  field  of  reception,  by  actions  of 
the  organism  itself,  especially  by  mass  movement  of  its  parts.  .  .  .  The  im- 
mediate stimulus  for  the  reflex  started  at  the  deep  receptor  is  thus  sup- 
plied by  some  part  of  the  organism  itself  as  agent "  (p.  336).  Cf.  below, 
pp.  298-301. 


2p6        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

is  such  as  to  be  knowable  by  me  if  I  can  identify  it.  Com- 
monly, doubt  exists  only  as  to  which  of  several  things,  all 
plainly  known  to  you,  is  at  the  moment  known  to  me.  I 
may  tell  you,  and  when  I  do,  one  is  selected  and  the  others 
fall  away.  Or  you  may  conjecture,  and  if  your  conjecture 
be  true  you  possess  the  content,  though  without  being  sure 
of  the  relation  to  my  mind. 

But  in  the  second  place  (and  I  here  anticipate  a  charge 
of  grave  omission)  the  relation  of  the  content  to  my  mind 
must  be  supposed  to  be  objectively  and  discoverably  there, 
even  when  I  do  not  acknowledge  it  by  a  verbal  report.  It 
is  impossible  to  formulate  a  case  of  memory,  for  example, 
without  affirming  a  connection  between  the  past  event 
which  contributes  the  content  and  the  locally  present 
mind  that  is  recalling  it.  If  I  am  in  fact  here  and  now 
recollecting  a  visit  to  London  in  1905,  a  complex  is  denned, 
the  essential  terms  of  which  are  in  your  plain  view.  And 
the  connection  must  be  homogeneous  with  the  terms.  The 
past  event  as  it  was,  must  be  engaged  or  dealt  with  by  me 
as  I  stand  before  you.  In  other  words,  the  original  per- 
ceptual response  must  be  continued  into  the  present.  But 
this  is  possible  only  through  the  identity  of  the  nervous 
system.  The  link  of  recollection,  connecting  past  and 
present,  lies  in  a  retrospective  functioning  of  my  body, 
which  can  be  accounted  for  only  by  its  history.  And  this 
is  as  accessible  as  any  natural  or  moral  process.  When  you 
know  that  I  am  looking  at  the  moon,  the  salient  facts  are 
before  you,  the  focalized  posture  of  my  body  and  its  organ 
of  vision,  the  concentration  and  consistency  of  my  action, 
and,  most  important  of  all,  the  moon.  In  the  case  of  my 
recollection  of  London  the  facts  are  more  complicated,  and 
even  in  part  inaccessible,  but  equally  with  the  facts  just 
cited,  they  are  in  the  context  of  your  possible  knowledge. 
They  consist  in  such  elements  as  my  central  attentive 
process,  certain  persisting  modifications  of  my  cerebrum, 
my  original  dealings,  practical  and  neural,  with  London, 
and  —  London  itself. 


REALISTIC  THEORY   OF   MIND  297 

The  same  general  consideration  will  apply  also  to  thought. 
When  I  am  thinking  abstractions,  the  contents  of  my 
mind,  namely  the  abstractions  themselves,  are  such  as  you 
also  may  think.  They  are  not  possessed  by  me  in  any 
exclusive  sense.  And  the  fact  that  they  are  my  contents 
means  that  they  are  somehow  bound  up  with  the  history 
of  my  nervous  system.  The  contents,  and  the  linkage 
which  makes  them  mine,  are  alike  common  objects,  lying 
in  the  field  of  general  observation  and  study. 

§  ii.  When    mental    content    is    thus    arrived   at  by 

general   observation   rather   than   by   introspection,    the 

action   which   is  correlative  to  it,  which  in- 

The  Alleged 

impossibility     vests  it   with   a   new    status   and  brings   it 
°f_  observing      together  in  a  new   way,  is  •  revealed   at  the 

Mental  Action  .  ,  r  .         J        . 

same  time.  You  observe  the  contents  of  my 
mind  by  following  my  glance  or  my  words;  so  that  at 
the  same  time  that  you  observe  the  contents,  you  may 
also  observe  the  action,  namely  my  visual  or  verbal 
response  to  these  contents.  But  we  must  deal  here  with 
the  traditional  objection  that  it  is  paradoxical  or  contra- 
dictory to  suppose  that  mental  action  can  be  observed,  as 
other  things  are  observed.  Mental  action,  it  is  argued,  is 
active;  and  to  be  observed  it  would  have  to  become  pas- 
sive, and  so  lose  its  distinctive  nature.  Or,  mental  action 
is  subject,  and  so  can  never  be  object  without  forfeiting  its 
identity. 

The  objection  rests  obviously  upon  the  error  of  '  exclusive 
particularity.'  It  presupposes  that  what  is  active  cannot 
also  be  passive,  or  that  what  is  subject  cannot  also  be  object. 
Knowledge,  it  is  asserted,  always  assumes  the  form  (S) 
R  (O)  (subject-knowing-object).  And  in  this  abstract 
scheme,  S  cannot  change  its  place  without  forfeiting  its 
nature,  since,  like  the  hypothenuse  of  a  right-angle  triangle, 
its  nature  is  its  place.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
same  concrete  entity  may  not  change  its  place,  and  having 
once  been  S  now  become  0;  as  the  same  straight  line, 
having  been  the  hypothenuse  of  one  triangle  may  become 


298        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

the  side  of  another.  The  same  soul  or  nervous  system, 
or  whatever  was  filling  the  office  of  subject,  might  come  to 
fill  also  the  office  of  object.  Or,  while  a  given  entity  was 
filling  the  office  of  subject  in  relation  to  an  object,  it  might 
at  the  same  time  be  itself  filling  the  office  of  object  in  rela- 
tion to  a  second  subject.  And  the  nature  of  the  office  of 
subject,  as  exemplified  in  the  first  subject,  could  thus  be 
known  in  the  ordinary  way  by  the  second  subject.  Thus 
there  is  nothing  whatsoever  to  stand  in  the  way  of  the 
supposition  that  the  bodily  action  wherewith  I  deal  with 
things  and  make  them  my  objects,  may  itself  be  similarly 
dealt  with  and  made  object  by  another  bodily  agent;  or 
in  supposing  that  the  bodily  process  which  in  my  own 
experience  functions  as  mental  action,  and  does  not  appear 
as  content,  should  be  the  content  of  another  mind.  And 
on  this  supposition,  it  would  naturally  be  agreed  that  the 
person  best  qualified  to  report  on  the  nature  of  my  mental 
action  would  be  not  myself,  the  user  of  it,  but  the  phys- 
iologist or  moralist  who  is  the  beholder  of  it. 

§  12.  We   are  now  prepared  for   a    statement  of  the 
nature  of    mental   action  in  terms  of    general    observa- 

Mental  Action     ^On'      ^^   m    ^e   ^rst    place>    ^   *s   to   ^6   ob- 

as  Nervous       served  that  mental  action  is  a  property  of  the 
ystem  physical  organism.     This  view  is  contained  in 

principle  in  Mach's  notion  that  an  element  is  mental  in 
so  far  as  it  stands  in  a  relation  of  functional  dependence 
to  a  certain  specific  set  of  elements,  which  he  calls  the 
elements  K  L  M  .  .  . ;  these  elements  corresponding  to 
what  is  generally  known  as  the  nervous  system.1  To  this 
notion  of  Mach's  must  be  added  the  so-called  "motor 
theory"  of  consciousness,  which  is  steadily  winning  a 
general  acceptance  among  psychologists.  "We  are  com- 
pelled to  believe,"  says  Professor  McDougall,  "that  the 
nervous  processes  of  the  brain  are  of  the  type  of  the  reflex 
processes  of  the  spinal  cord,  and  consist  in  the  trans- 
mission of  physical  impulses  through  channels  of  great 

1  Cf.  above,  pp.  78-79. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  2pp 

complexity  from  the  sensory  to,  or  towards,  the  motor 
nerves,  and  to  believe  that  all  psychical  processes  are 
accompanied  by  nervous  processes  of  this  character."1 
We  are  thus  led  to  the  view  that  elements  become  mental 
content  when  reacted  to  in  the  specific  manner  characteristic 
of  the  central  nervous  system.2 

This  conclusion  is  approximated  by  at  least  two  recent 
writers  of  wide  influence.  Richard  Avenarius,  the  founder 
of  the  so-called  "Immanence  School"  in  Germany,  em- 
ploys a  peculiar  terminology  of  his  own.3  The  central 
nervous  system  he  terms  "system  C."  This  system  he 
conceives,  after  the  naturalistic  fashion,  as  situated  in 
an  environment  from  which  it  receives  stimulations 
(" ^-values"),  and  to  which  it  gives  back  a  characteristic 
response  ("E- values").  Experience  or  mental  content 
consists  of  these  .E-values,  or  responses  of  system  C. 
Avenarius,  however,  leaves  us  in  doubt  whether  the  reac- 
tion of  system  C  does  not  create  contents.  It  would  appear 
that  the  "E- values"  are  more  than  actions;  that  they 
embrace  mental  constructs  not  given  in  the  environment. 

The  correct  view  is  more  closely  approached  in  Bergson's 
theory  of  pure  perception.  This  writer  concludes  that 
"the  living  body  in  general,  and  the  nervous  system  in 
particular,  are  only  channels  for  the  transmission  of  move- 
ments, which,  received  in  the  form  of  stimulation,  are 
transmitted  in  the  form  of  action,  reflex  or  voluntary. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  vain  to  attribute  to  the  cerebral  sub- 
stance the  property  of  engendering  representations"  Its 
function  is  selective;  and  those  parts  of  the  environment 
which  it  selects  by  its  action,  whether  virtual,  nascent, 
or  actual,  are  the  content  of  perception.  "If  we  suppose 
an  extended  continuum,  and,  in  this  continuum,  the  center 

1  W.  McDougall,  Physiological  Psychology,  p.   7   (italics  mine).     Cf. 
also  H.  Miinsterberg:    Grundziige  der  Psychologic,  pp.  525-562. 

2  See  note  on  p.  305. 

3  Cf.  W.  T.  Bush:  Avenarius  and  the  Standpoint  of  Pure  Experience,  pp. 
39  sq.;   Avenarius:    Der  Menschliche  Weltbegrijf,  passim.     The   present 
leader  of  the  "Immanence  School"  is  Joseph  Petzoldt;  cf.  his  Einfiihrung 
in  die  Philosophic  der  reinen  Erfahrung. 


300        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

of  real  action  which  is  represented  by  our  body,  its  activity 
will  appear  to  illumine  all  those  parts  of  matter  with  which 
at  each  successive  moment  it  can  deal."  In  other  words, 
mental  content  consists  of  portions  of  the  surrounding 
environment  "illumined"  by  the  action  of  the  organism.1 

§  13.  Bergson's  view  does  not  suffice  as  a  thorough- 
going theory  of  mind,  because  it  is  limited  to  perception. 
Mental  Action  A  creative  function  is  reserved  for  mind  in  its 
as  interest  other  operations.2  But  he  states  with  admi- 
rable clearness  a  principle  which  can  readily  be  extended  to 
the  higher  functions  of  mind.  And  furthermore  his  state- 
ment of  the  principle  possesses  the  additional  advantage 
of  emphasizing  the  essentially  teleological  character  of 
mental  action.  "Conscious  perception,"  he  says,  "does 
riot  compass  the  whole  of  matter,  since  it  consists,  in  as 
far  as  it  is  conscious,  in  the  separation,  or  'discernment,' 
of  that  which,  in  matter,  interests  our  various  needs."* 
The  action  of  the  nervous  system  is  a  function  of  the  organ- 
ism, and  like  the  organism  it  exhibits  the  control  of  interest. 
So  that  a  physiological  account  of  the  action  of  mind  must 
be  supplemented  by  a  moral  account.  And  content  of 
mind  must  be  defined  as  that  portion  of  the  surrounding 
environment  which  is  taken  account  of  by  the  organism  in 
serving  its  interests;  the  nervous  system,  physiologically 
regarded,  being  the  mechanism  which  is  employed. 

As  mind  appears  in  nature  and  society,  it  consists  prima- 
rily in  interested  behavior.  Such  behavior  is  promptly 
and  almost  unerringly  distinguished  by  all  save  the  most 
rudimentary  intelligences.  Indeed,  the  capacity  of  making 
such  a  distinction  is  one  of  the  conditions  of  survival. 
Upon  the  lowest  plane  of  social  intercourse  a  mind  is  a 
potentiality  of  bodily  contact,  and  is  marked  and  dealt 

1  Bergson:  Matter  and  Memory,  trans,  by  Paul  and  Palmer,  pp.  81, 
309  (first  italics  mine).  Cf.  Ch.  I,  passim. 

1  Cf.  op.  cit.,  Ch.  II,  III;  and  above,  pp.  239-240,  261-265. 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  78  (italics  mine).  A  similar  idea  is  contained  in  Avena- 
rius's  conception  of  the  "E- values"  as  determined  by  the  endeavor  of 
"system  C"  to  maintain  its  equilibrium.  Cf.  Bush,  op.  cit.,  pp.  40-41. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  301 

with  accordingly.  But  even  upon  a  comparatively  low 
plane  there  is  recognition  of  a  characteristic  difference  be- 
tween minds  and  other  bodily  things.  Minds  exhibit 
spontaneity  and  waywardness,  a  certain  isolation  of  con- 
trol in  their  own  interest.  Individually  they  manifest  per- 
sistent hostility,  which  is  feared  in  them,  or  persistent 
friendliness,  which  is  courted  in  them.  Such  a  recognition 
of  mind  is  already  present  in  a  mind's  discriminating  reac- 
tion to  anger,  or  to  a  hereditary  foe,  as  denoting  a  marked 
or  constant  source  of  danger. 

Where  social  relations  are  more  subtle  and  indirect,  the 
element  of  interest  tends  to  supplant  the  merely  physical 
and  mechanical  element  of  mind  altogether.  In  my  dealings 
with  my  neighbor  I  am  most  concerned  with  his  desires  or 
his  consistent  plan  of  action.  I  can  injure  him  by  check- 
mating his  interests,  or  profit  by  him  through  combining 
my  interests  with  his.  It  is  most  important  for  me  to  know 
what  he  consistently  seeks.  He  is  a  living  policy  or  pur- 
pose of  which  I  must  obtain  the  key-motive  if  I  would 
make  either  peace  or  war. 

I  am  also  familiar  with  my  own  propensities.  In  so  far 
as  I  am  reflective,  my  impulses  and  ideals  are  repeatedly 
the  objects  of  my  contemplation  and  scrutiny.  They  are 
defined,  adopted,  rejected,  or  reaffirmed  in  every  moral 
crisis.  But  if  be  true  that  my  interests  are  myself,  in  the 
deepest  sense,  it  is  no  less  true  that  they  are  evident  to  any 
intelligent  observer.  They  are  the  defining  forms  of  my 
life.  In  so  far  as  they  move  me  they  cannot  be  hidden 
away  within  me.  They  mark  me  among  my  fellows,  and 
give  me  my  place,  humble  or  obscure,  in  the  open  field  of 
history.  It  is  possible,  doubtless,  to  emphasize  the  intro- 
spective factor  of  desire.  But  desire  in  so  far  as  content, 
merely,  is  not  desire  at  all.  Desire  as  moral,  as  a  form  of 
determination,  belongs  not  to  the  domestic  mind,  but  to 
mind  at  large  in  nature  and  society. 

§  14.  And  precisely  as  a  mind's  interests  are  evident  to 
general  observation,  so  are  the  objects  on  which  it  acts 


302        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

interestedly.  If  I  am  to  deal  with  my  friend  or  enemy  at 
close  range,  it  is  clear  that  I  must  think  with  him,  or 
Mental  Content  alwavs  to  some  extent  traverse  with  him 
as  identified  by  the  objects  in  his  field  of  view.  Upon  higher 
interested  Action  planes  of  intercourse,  in  narrative,  in  straight- 
forward and  companionable  discussion,  another's  mind 
consists  more  of  objects  than  anything  else.  Its  bodily 
aspect  falls  away,  and  even  its  impelling  interest  tends  to 
be  neglected.  But  it  needs  only  a  shifting  of  the  atten- 
tion to  correct  the  perspective.  I  may  deliberately  take 
pains  to  discover  and  supply  a  mind's  objects.  To  do 
so  I  have  only  to  observe  what  the  mind  selects  from  its 
environment. 

Is  this  not  what  is  done,  for  example,  by  the  student  of 
the  animal  mind?  We  are  told  that  the  amoeba  has  four 
general  reactions  of  the  organic  type.  One  of  these  is 
described  as  positive:  "a  pseudo-podium  is  pushed  forward 
in  the  direction  of  the  stimulus,  and  the  animal  moves 
towards  the  solid."  The  solidity  of  bodies  enters  into  this 
animal's  practical  economy:  "the  positive  reaction  is 
useful  in  securing  contact  with  a  support  on  which  to 
creep."  1  Here  is  an  element  of  the  environment  that  is 
marked  and  isolated  by  a  response  which  expresses  the 
organism's  self-preservative  impulse.  Do  we,  then,  not 
know  the  content  of  the  amoeba's  mind?  Should  I  ever 
understand  the  matter  better  by  contracting  my  own  mind 
to  amoeba-like  proportions?  I  grant  that  as  I  have  loosely 
described  the  matter,  much  doubt  exists  as  to  how  far  the 
amoeba's  discrimination  goes,  but  in  his  studies  of  sensory 
discrimination  the  comparative  psychologist  has  already 
devised  methods  which  open  the  way  to  greater  exactness.2 
Conditions  may  be  contrived  which  make  it  to  the  animal's 
interest  to  notice  differences,  and  these  may  be  progressively 
refined  until  the  animal  is  pressed  to  the  limit  of  his  sensi- 
bility. When  after  such  tests  the  conclusion  is  reached  that 
the  animal  feels  the  solid  or  sees  blue,  what  remains  to  be 
1  Washburn,  op.  tit.,  p.  40.  »  Cf.  ibid.,  Ch.  IV. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF    MIND  303 

said  by  way  of  "interpretation?"1  The  amoeba  does  not, 
it  is  true,  feel  the  solid  as  we  do.  Therefore  let  us  observe 
the  amazba,  and  not  undertake  to  say  how  we  should  feel 
if  we  were  amoebae.  We  shall  then  find  that  which  is 
presented  to  the  amoeba  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
fuller  environment  that  lies  before  us,  by  the  amoeba's 
interested  action. 

There  will  still  persist,  I  feel  sure,  a  belief  to  the  effect 
that  mental  content  can  never  be  known  in  this  way. 
Such  belief  appears  to  me  to  be  due,  at  least  in  part,  to 
a  curiously  perverse  habit  of  thought.  It  is  customary 
to  look  for  the  content  within  the  body,  and  then  solemnly 
declare  that  it  is  not  to  be  found.  Though  long  since 
theoretically  discredited,  the  'subcutaneous'  mind  still 
haunts  the  imagination  of  every  one  who  deals  with  this 
problem.  But  why  not  look  for  the  object  where  it  be- 
longs, and  where  it  is  easily  accessible  —  namely,  in  the 
environment?  Is  it  not  in  truth  the  environment  which 
the  amoeba  or  any  other  organism  is  sensing"?  If,  then,  we 
are  in  search  of  content,  why  take  so  much  pains  to  turn 
our  backs  on  it,  and  look  for  it  where  by  definition  it  must 
escape  use.  Such  procedure  is  due,  I  think,  simply  to  a 
failure  to  group  together  behavior,  and  those  elements  of  the 
environment  selected  by  the  behavior — the  reaction,  and  the 
stimulus.  It  is  true  that  neither  behavior,  nor  even 
conduct,  is  mind;  but  only  because  mind  is  behavior,  or 
conduct,  together  with  the  objects  which  these  employ 
and  isolate. 

§  15.  In  conclusion  let  me  briefly  summarize  the  parts 
of  mind  which  the  analysis  has  revealed. 

(i )   In  the  first  place,  a  mind  is  a  complex  so  organized 

1  I  have  reference  here  to  such  statements  of  method  as  the  following: 
"Knowledge  regarding  the  animal  mind,  like  knowledge  of  human  minds 
other  than  our  own,  must  come  by  way  of  inference  from  behavior.  Two 
fundamental  questions  then  confront  the  comparative  psychologist.  First, 
by  what  method  shall  he  find  out  how  an  animal  behaves?  Second,  how 
shall  he  interpret  the  conscious  aspect  of  that  behavior?"  (The  italics  are 
mine.)  Ibid.,  p.  4. 


304       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

as  to  act  desideratively  or  interestedly.  I  mean  here  to 
indicate  that  character  which  distinguishes  the  living  organ- 

A  Summary  *Sm>  having  originally  the  instinct  of  Self- 
Definition  of  preservation,  and  acquiring  in  the  course  of  its 
Mmd  development  a  variety  of  special  interests. 

I  use  the  term  interest  primarily  in  its  biological  rather 
than  in  its  psychological  sense.  Certain  natural  processes 
act  consistently  in  such  wise  as  to  isolate,  protect,  and 
renew  themselves.  (2)  But  such  processes,  interested  in 
their  general  form,  possess  characteristic  instrumentalities, 
notably  a  bodily  nervous  system  which  localizes  the 
interest  and  conditions  the  refinement  and  range  of  its 
intercourse  with  its  environment.  (3)  Finally,  a  mind 
embraces  certain  contents  or  parts  of  the  environment, 
with  which  it  deals  through  its  instrumentalities  and  in 
behalf  of  its  interests. 

The  natural  mind,  as  here  and  now  existing,  is  thus  an 
organization  possessing  as  distinguishable,  but  complemen- 
tary, aspects,  interest,  nervous  system,  and  contents.  Or,  if 
interest  and  nervous  system  be  taken  together  as  consti- 
tuting the  action  of  mind,  we  may  summarize  mind  as 
action  and  contents. 

The  evolution  of  mind  appears  on  the  one  hand  in 
the  multiplication  and  coordination  of  the  interests  which 
govern  it,  and  on  the  other  hand  in  its  enrichment  of 
content  through  gain  in  discrimination  and  range.  The 
latter,  in  turn,  means  the  increase  of  that  proportion  of 
the  environment  of  which  its  improved  capacities  enable 
it  to  take  account.  The  human  mind  is  preeminent  in 
respect  both  of  discrimination  and  range.  In  other  words, 
it  acts  on  abstractions  and  principles,  on  an  innumerable 
variety  of  complex  objects,  and  on  remote  regions  of  space 
and  time;  all  of  which  lie  outside  the  practical  economy 
of  animals  comparatively  deficient  in  sense,  memory, 
imagination,  and  thought. 

It  is  only  just  to  admit  that  mind  as  observed  intro- 
spectively  differs  characteristically  from  mind  as  observed 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   MIND  305 

in  nature  and  society.  But  this  does  not  prove  that  in 
either  case  it  is  not  directly  known,  or  that  what  is  known 
is  not  the  real  mind.  Every  complex  object  presents  its 
parts  in  a  different  order  when  approached  in  different 
ways,  but  in  the  object  as  wholly  known  these  parts  fit  and 
supplement  one  another.  As  introspection  obscures  the 
instrumental  and  action  factors  of  mind,  so  general  observa- 
tion obscures  its  content  factor.  But  when  these  factors 
are  united,  they  compose  a  whole  mind,  having  a  structure 
and  a  function  that  may  be  known  by  any  knower, 
whatever  his  initial  bias. 


[NOTE  (see  p.  299).  —  Since  this  book  was  written  Professor  E.  B.  Holt's 
views  to  which  the  author  had  already  been  indebted,  have  been 
published.  Holt's  Concept  of  Consciousness,  and  "Response  and 
Cognition"  in  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol. 
XII,  Nos.  14  and  15,  now  constitute  the  most  able  statement  of  the 
above  theory  with  special  emphasis  on  its  physiological  aspects.] 


CHAPTER  Xin 
A  REALISTIC  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

I.  THE  THEORY  OF  IMMANENCE 

§  i.  THE  new  realism  is  a  revival  of  what  has  been 
referred  to  as  the  "antiquated  metaphysics,  which  talks 
The  Old  Real-  about  existence  per  se,  out  of  all  relation  to 
ism  and  the  minds." l  But  lest  it  be  thought  that  this 
theory  is  altogether  antiquated,  it  is  important 
to  point  out  its  precise  relation  to  earlier  forms  of  realism. 
The  most  remarkable  parallel  which  the  past  affords  is  to 
be  found  in  a  theory  which  Hume  entertained  provisionally 
as  a  natural  sequel  to  his  analysis  of  mind.  This  parallel 
is  so  instructive  as  to  warrant  its  being  quoted  in  full. 

"We  may  observe,"  writes  Hume,  "that  what  we  call 
a  mind,  is  nothing  but  a  heap  or  collection  of  different 
perceptions,  united  together  by  certain  relations,  and 
suppos'd,  tho'  falsely,  to  be  endow'd  with  a  perfect  sim- 
plicity and  identity.  Now  as  every  perception  is  distin- 
guishable from  another,  and  may  be  consider'd  as  separately 
existent;  it  evidently  follows,  that  there  is  no  absurdity  in 
separating  any  particular  perception  from  the  mind;  that 
is,  in  breaking  off  all  its  relations,  with  that  connected 
mass  of  perceptions,  which  constitute  a  thinking  being.  .  .  . 
If  the  name  of  perception  renders  not  this  separation  from 
a  mind  absurd  and  contradictory,  the  name  of  object, 
standing  for  the  very  same  thing,  can  never  render  their 
conjunction  impossible.  External  objects  are  seen,  and 
felt,  and  become  present  to  the  mind;  that  is,  they  acquire 
such  a  relation  to  a  connected  heap  of  perceptions,  as  to 
influence  them  very  considerably  in  augmenting  their 

1  G.  H.  Howison:  The  Limits  of  Evolution,  and  Other  Essays,  p.  21. 
306 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  307 

number  by  present  reflections  and  passions,  and  in  storing 
the  memory  with  ideas.  The  same  continu'd  and  uninter- 
rupted Being  may,  therefore,  be  sometimes  present  to  the 
mind,  and  sometimes  absent  from  it,  without  any  real  or 
essential  change  in  the  Being  itself."  l 

It  will  be  noted  that  Hume  here  regards  things  not 
only  as  possessing  being  independently  of  the  mind,  but 
also  as  identical  with  perceptions  when  present  to  the  mind. 
Indeed,  he  was  first  convinced  of  their  identity  with  per- 
ceptions, and  suggested  their  independence  only  as  an  after- 
thought. In  this  respect  Hume's  view  is  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  "natural  realism"  of  the  Scottish  School  of  Reid 
and  Hamilton.  These  writers  were  concerned  primarily 
to  avert  the  sceptical  and  absurd  consequences  of  the 
"ideal  philosophy,"  which  merged  external  reality  into  the 
mind's  ideas.  They  sought  to  restore  the  traditional 
substances,  the  mind  within  and  the  nature  without;  and 
regarded  both  as  distinct  from  the  ideas  that  "suggest" 
them.  In  the  case  of  the  "primary"  physical  qualities, 
"extension,  solidity,  and  motion,"  they  did,  it  is  true,  assert 
a  doctrine  of  "real  presentationism."  But  they  did  not 
explain  how  bodies  can  be  "suggested,"  "presented,"  or 
"conceived,"  without  becoming  ideas;  or  how  without  the 
mediating  function  of  ideas,  minds  can  know  bodies.  In 
other  words,  the  dualistic  difficulty  was  aggravated  and  not 
relieved.2 

Modern  realism  is  closer  to  the  monistic  realism  of 
"ideas,"  suggested  by  Hume,  than  to  the  dualistic  realism 
of  mind  and  matter,  propounded  by  the  Scottish  School; 
and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Scottish  philosophy 
was  primarily  a  polemic,  in  the  name  of  "realism,"  against 

1  Hume:    Treatise  of  Human  Nature  (Selby-Bigge's  edition),  p.  207. 
Cf.  above,  pp.  137-138.     Professor  W.  P.  Montague  called  attention  to 
this  aspect  of  Hume  in  an  article  entitled  "A  Neglected  Point  in  Hume's 
Philosophy,"  Phil.  Review,  Vol.  XIV,  1905. 

2  Thomas  Reid:  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind  (1764),  ch.  I,  V,  VII; 
Sir  William  Hamilton:  Notes  B,C,  D,  appended  to  his  edition  of  the  Philo- 
sophical Works  of  Thomas  Reid;  especially,  eighth  edition,  p.  825.     Cf. 
J.  S.  Mill:  Sir  William  Hamilton's  Philosophy,  Ch.  II. 


308        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

Hume,  as  the  last  and  most  outrageous  of  the  idealists. 
The  new  realism,  while  it  insists,  as  all  realism  must,  that 
things  are  independent,  asserts  that  when  things  are  known, 
they  are  ideas  of  the  mind.  They  may  enter  directly  into 
the  mind;  and  when  they  do,  they  become  what  are  called 
'ideas.'  So  that  ideas  are  only  things  in  a  certain  relation; 
or,  things,  in  respect  of  being  known,  are  ideas. 

It  is  important,  therefore,  in  expounding  the  general 
realistic  theory  of  knowledge,  to  distinguish  two  component 
theories.  The  first  I  shall  call  the  theory  of  'imma- 
nence.' This  is  the  same  theory  as  that  which  I  have 
in  another  connection  termed  '  epistemological  monism.'1 
It  means  that  when  a  given  thing,  a,  is  known,  a  itself 
enters  into  a  relation  which  constitutes  it  the  idea  or  con- 
tent of  a  mind.  The  second  I  shall  call  the  theory  of 
'independence;'  and  it  means  that  although  a  may  thus 
enter  into  mind,  and  assume  the  status  of  content,  it  is  not 
dependent  on  this  status  for  its  being,  or  nature.  After 
discussing  these  two  theories,  which  deal  with  the  problem 
of  the  relation  of  knowledge  to  its  objects,  I  shall  apply 
them  briefly  to  the  problem  of  truth. 

§  2.  There  are  two  varieties  of  dualism  which  the  theory 
of  immanence  makes  it  possible  to  escape;  the  dualism 

between   mind   and   body,   and   the   dualism 

between  thought  and  things.    The  theory  of 
Body  as  a  Dif-   immanence  escapes  these  dualisms  by  employ - 

m&  ^e  n'°ti°n   of    relation   in    place  of    the 

notion  of  substance.2 
The  dualism  between  mind  and  body  received  its  clas- 
sic formulation,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  philosophy  of 
Descartes.     This  was  essentially  a  'substance-attribute' 

1  Cf.  above,  pp.  124-126. 

*  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  categories  of  substance,  quality,  and 
relation  represent  natural  stages  in  the  evolution  and  refinement  of  thought. 
Cf.  Ludwig  Stein:  "Der  Neo-Idealismus  unserer  Tage,"  in  his  Archiv  fur 
systematishe  Philosophic,  Vol.  IX,  1903;  referred  to  by  W.  P.  Montague: 
"The  Relational  Theory  of  Consciousness  and  its  Realistic  Implications," 
Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  II,  1905. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  309 

philosophy.  Mind  and  body  were  conceived  as  two  self- 
contained  and  mutually  exclusive  spheres,  characterized 
and  distinguished  by  the  two  attributes,  'thought'  and 
'extension.'  These  two  attributes  Descartes  regarded  as 
ultimately  different,  and  as  involving  a  complete  disjunc- 
tion between  the  substances  which  they  qualified.  The 
Cartesian  dualism  gave  rise  to  the  most  baffling  perplex- 
ities. If  mind  and  body  be  disjoined  by  definition,  how 
explain  the  empirical  fact  of  their  union?  For  those 
facts  which  are  so  prominently  in  evidence  in  philosophy, 
namely,  the  processes  of  perception  and  of  voluntary  action, 
are  neither  exclusively  mental  nor  exclusively  bodily,  but 
a  blend  of  the  two.  In  perception  a  process  which 
begins  as  bodily  ends  as  mental;  and  in  volition  a  process 
which  begins  as  mental  ends  as  bodily.  Notwithstanding 
these  difficulties  the  Cartesian  dualism  has  been  perpetu- 
ally confirmed  by  the  habits  of  common  sense;  and  still 
remains  the  most  plausible,  and  superficially  the  most  intel- 
ligible, doctrine.  For  it  is  customary  and  instinctive  to 
think  of  all  duality  as  exclusive,  like  the  duality  of  bodies 
or  non-intersecting  spaces.  Gesture  and  symbol  —  in  short, 
every  method  of  sensuous  representation,  exhibit  the  same 
type  of  duality;  so  that  it  requires  more  than  the  ordinary 
precision  of  thought  to  avoid  the  assumption  of  its 
universality. 

Human  experience  abounds,  however,  in  dualities  of 
another  type.  Social  aggregates,  for  example,  are  dis- 
tinguished not  by  the  inherent  nature  of  their  contents, 
but  by  some  unifying  relation.  Thus  the  residents  of  the 
United  States  are  divided  into  sexes,  political  parties,  races, 
ages,  and  innumerably  many  other  groups;  and  these 
groups  overlap  and  intersect.  They  do  not  possess  their 
members  exclusively,  but  share  their  members.  The 
difference  between  any  two  groups,  such,  for  example,  as 
the  Democratic  party  and  the  proletariat,  is  not  a  differ- 
ence of  members  —  for  it  is  conceivable  that  their 
membership  should  exactly  coincide;  but  a  difference  of 


310        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

principle  of  organization.  In  respect  of  one  relation  the 
members  constitute  one  group,  and  in  respect  of  another 
relation  the  same  members  constitute  another  group. 

The  theory  of  immanence  applies  this  type  of  difference 
to  the  duality  of  mind  and  body.  The  application  becomes 
possible,  indeed  necessary,  the  moment  it  is  recognized 
that  mind  and  body  are  both  complexes  capable  of  being 
analyzed  into  more  primitive  terms.  Neither  mind  nor 
body  is  really  simple;  although  common  sense  and  philo- 
sophical tradition  have  conspired  to  make  them  appear  so.1 
And  when  they  are  submitted  to  analysis,  it  appears  that 
the  more  primitive  terms  of  which  they  are  composed  are, 
in  many  cases  at  least,  interchangeable.  There  are  sen- 
sible qualities  and  logical  categories  common  to  both. 
Indeed  it  is  impossible  to  find  ground  for  asserting  that 
there  is  any  term  of  the  bodily  complex  that  is  disqualified 
from  entering  the  mental  complex. 

This  view  is  best  set  forth  in  Ernst  Mach's  little  book, 
Die  Analyse  der  Empfindungen,  which  deserves  to  be 
numbered  among  the  classics  of  modern  realism.2  The 
elements  of  the  physical  and  the  psychical,  according  to 
this  author,  are  the  same.  But  while  physics  studies  one 
type  of  relationship,  such  as  the  relation  of  a  color  to 
the  source  of  light,  psychology  studies  its  peculiar  relation 
to  the  retina  or  nervous  system  of  a  sentient  organism. 
The  color  itself  is  neither  physical  nor  psychical.3 

While  Mach's  statement  of  the  theory  is  correct  in 
principle,  it  is  colored  by  the  author's  naturalistic  predilec- 
tions. He  neglects  the  logical  aspect  of  knowledge. 
Physical  and  psychical  complexes  have  in  common  not  only 
sensible  qualities,  but  also  certain  more  fundamental 
formal  relationships,  such  as  implication,  order,  causation, 
time,  and  the  like.  These  relations  in  their  purity  can  be 
discovered  only  by  carrying  analysis  beyond  the  bounds 

1  Cf.  above,  pp.  51-53,  279-283. 

1  There  is  an  English  translation  by  C.  M.  Williams,  already  referred 
to  above,  pp.  78-79.     Cf .  also  Mach :  Erkenntnis  und  Irrtum. 
3  Cf.  above,  pp.  277-279;  and  below,  pp.  364-365. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  311 

of  sensible  discrimination.  They  require,  in  short,  logical 
analysis.1  Those  who  have  adequately  recognized  the 
importance  of  logic  have,  on  their  side,  usually  neglected 
the  specific  question  of  the  relation  of  mind  and  body.  The 
full  scope  of  the  theory  of  immanence  appears  only  when 
it  is  recognized  that  the  same  elements  compose  both  mind 
and  body;  and  that  these  common  elements  embrace  both 
sense  qualia  and  also  logical  abstractions.  Then,  instead 
of  conceiving  of  reality  as  divided  absolutely  between  two 
impenetrable  spheres,  we  may  conceive  it  as  a  field  of 
interpenetrating  relationships,  among  which  those  de- 
scribed by  physics  and  psychology  are  the  most  familiar 
and  typical,  and  those  described  by  logic  the  most  simple 
and  universal. 

When  mind  and  body  are  so  conceived,  there  is  no 
longer  any  peculiar  difficulty  involved  in  the  perception  of 
bodily  objects.2  For  the  relationship  which  invests  a 
term  with  a  bodily  character  does  not  preempt  it;  so  that 
at  the  same  time  that  it  is  bodily  by  virtue  of  one  relation, 
it  may  also  be  content  of  perception  by  virtue  of  another 
relation.  When  I  perceive  Mars,  the  sun's  satellite  (body) 
is  my  percept  (mind) ;  and  there  is  no  more  contradiction 
than  in  supposing  that  my  uncle  is  my  father's  brother. 

§  3.  The  second  dualism  which  the  theory  of  immanence 
makes  it  possible  to  escape  is  that  between  knowledge  and 
Representation  tnmgs-  This  dualism  is  not  based  merely  on  a 
as  an  immanent  disjunction  of  substances  defined  by  dissimilar 
Relation  attributes,  but  on  the  alleged  'self-transcen- 

dence' of  knowledge.  It  would  appear  that  knowledge  is 
'about'  things  other  than  itself.  This  has  given  rise  to 
the  notion  of  the  'thing  in  itself,'  as  that  to  which 
knowledge  points  or  refers,  but  which  is  always  'other' 
than  the  content  of  knowledge.  The  difficulty  is  evident. 
All  qualities  and  characters,  in  so  far  as  known,  are  annexed 
by  knowledge  and  withdrawn  from  reality.  The  thing 

1  Cf.  above,  p.  108. 

1  Nor  in  the  voluntary  control  of  bodily  actions.     Cf.  below,  pp.  341-342. 


3ia        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

in  itself,  thus  distinguished  from  all  content,  is  reduced  to 
a  bare  X,  entirely  devoid  of  qualities  and  characters. 
Thus  the  self-transcendence  of  thought  seems  to  imply 
agnosticism.  Knowledge  can  do  no  more  than  point 
beyond  to  the  reality  which  it  can  never  grasp.  It  is  a 
confession  of  failure. 

The  theory  of  immanence  rectifies  this  dualism  by  assert- 
ing that  the  difference  between  knowledge  and  things,  like 
that  between  mind  and  body,  is  a  relational  and  functional 
difference,  and  not  a  difference  of  content.  In  the  first 
place,  we  must  distinguish  between  immediate  knowledge 
and  mediate  knowledge.  In  the  case  of  immediate  knowl- 
edge, the  thing  and  the  knowledge  are  identical,  except 
as  respects  their  relations.  Thus  a  is  knowledge  by  virtue 
of  its  relation  to  a  nervous  system,  and  its  presence  in  a 
context  of  other  elements  similarly  related.  But  a  is 
also  'thing  in  itself  by  virtue  of  its  intrinsic  quality,  or  by 
virtue  of  its  sustaining  other  relations  than  those  of  the 
type  just  indicated.  When  I  perceive  Mars,  it  is  knowledge 
by  virtue  of  its  relation  to  my  perceiving  activity  and  to 
my  other  percepts,  my  memories,  plans,  feelings,  etc.; 
but  it  is  also  '  thing  in  itself '  by  virtue  of  its  volume,  and 
its  distance  from  the  sun. 

In  the  second  place,  however,  it  is  necessary  to  recognize 
that  in  mediate  knowledge,  or  discursive  thought,  there 
is  a  more  complete  difference  between  the  knowledge  and 
the  thing.  There  are  even  cases  in  which  the  knowledge 
and  the  thing  known  possess  little,  if  any,  identical  con- 
tent. One  may  think  about  a,  in  terms  of  &,  c,  etc.,  as 
when  one  thinks  about  Mars  in  terms  of  the  words,  "  Mars," 
"sun,"  etc.  The  theory  of  immanence  explains  these 
cases  by  saying  that  the  thing  thought  about,  and 
the  thought,  are  both  experienced.  The  thing  transcends 
the  thought,  but  it  remains  perceivable,  or  in  some  such 
manner  immediately  accessible;  and  possesses  the  qualities 
and  characters  which  such  an  immediate  knowledge  re- 
veals. "In  such  pieces  of  knowledge-of-acquaintance," 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  313 

says  James,  "all  our  knowledge-about  must  end."  Or,  as 
Dewey  expresses  it,  "the  meaning  is  one  thing;  the  thing 
meant  is  another  thing,  and  is  ...  a  thing  presented  as 
not  given  in  the  same  way  as  is  the  thing  which  means."  In 
other  words,  things  do  not  transcend  knowledge,  but  the 
thing  mediated  or  '  represented '  transcends  the  representa- 
tion; while  this  whole  process  of  transcendence  lies  within 
the  field  of  things  immediately  presented.1 

The  theory  of  immanence  thus  recognizes  two  sorts  of 
transcendence:  first,  a  thing's  transcendence  of  the  cogni- 
tive relation  by  virtue  of  its  possession  of  an  intrinsic 
quality  of  its  own,  or  by  virtue  of  its  possession  of  other 
relations,  such,  for  example,  as  physical  relations;  second, 
a  thing's  transcendence  of  its  representation,  within  the 
field  of  cognition  itself. 

II.  THE  THEORY  OF  INDEPENDENCE 

§  4.  THE  theory  of  immanence  not  only  fails  to  establish 

realism ; 2  but  appears  even  to  disprove  it  by  bringing  the 

transcendent  directly  into  mind.     It  is  now 

The  Half-real-  * 

isms,  indepen-    necessary  to  show  that  the  immanent  may  at 

thC  SamC  ^"^  bC  mdePendent-      Jt  WOuld  not, 

I  think,  be  far  from  the  truth  to  say  that  the 
cardinal  principle  of  neo-realism  is  the  independence  of 
the  immanent.3  To  prepare  the  way  for  the  understanding 
of  this  principle,  it  is  necessary  first  to  dispose  of  two 
theories  which  approach  it  so  closely  as  to  be  frequently 
confused  with  it. 

The  first  of  these  "half -realisms"  is  the  doctrine  pro- 
mulgated by  objective  and  absolute  idealism,  to  the  effect 
that  reality  is  independent  of  finite  knowledge.  Reality  is 
a  norm  or  ideal,  that  cannot  be  dependent  on  finite  knowl- 

1  James:  The  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  39;  Dewey:  Influence  of  Darwin 
on  Philosophy,  and  other  Essays,  p.  103,  note  (italics  mine). 

1  The  theory  of  immanence  is  held  in  one  form  or  another  by  nearly  all 
contemporary  philosophers. 

8 1  have  discussed  the  term  '  independence'  more  fully  in  "A  Realistic 
Theory  of  Independence,"  contributed  to  The  New  Realism. 


314        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

edge  because  it  is  presupposed  by  it.  Transcendental 
idealism  "discovers  the  final  ground  of  every  immanent 
being,  neither  in  that  being  itself,  nor  in  a  transcendent 
reality,  but  in  a  transcendent  ideal  which  the  knowing 
subject  has  to  realize."  This  transcendent  ideal  is  inde- 
pendent of  all  approximations  to  it,  "because  of  the  logical 
priority  of  the  ought  (Sollen)  to  the  is  (Sein)." 

But  this  view  (whether  expressed  in  voluntaristic  or  in 
intellectualistic  terms)  is  non-realistic,  for  two  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  "it  accepts  no  being  but  that  which  is 
immediately  given  in  the  idea"  —  it  moves  entirely  within 
the  limits  of  experience;  and  in  the  second  place,  "it  sets 
over  against  the  judging  subject  as  an  object  to  which  it 
must  conform,  only  an  ought,"  which  can  have  no  meaning 
apart  from  the  activity  of  thought.1  In  short,  things  are 
dependent  on  experience,  and  experience  on  thought;  and 
either  form  of  dependence  would  be  fatal  to  realism. 

§  5.  There  is  a  much  closer  approximation  to  realism  in 
the  pragmatist  doctrine  that  experience  is  independent  of 
independence  thought.  Indeed  by  many  pragmatists  this 

of  Mediate  doctrine  is  thought  to  Constitute  realism.  Ac- 
Knowledge  cording  to  this  doctrine  thought  is  a  special 
process  of  mediation;  which  arises  within  experience, 
and  employs  its  terms,  but  without  preempting  them. 
The  subject-object  relation,  the  relation  of  meaning,  the 
judgment  of  truth,  these  and  other  intellectual  processes, 
are  not  essential  to  experience;  they  are  arrangements 
into  which  experiences  fall  owing  to  certain  practical 
exigencies,  such  as  the  interruption  of  habit,  or  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  immediate  knowledge.  The  terms  of  the  intellec- 
tual process  are  intellectual  only  accidentally,  and  by 
virtue  of  certain  special  relationships  into  which  they  enter. 
But  what  shall  we  say  of  experience  itself?  Are  things 
essentially  experience,  or  is  this,  too,  a  peculiar  and  accidental 
relationship?  On  this  point,  pragmatism,  like  most  con- 
temporary thought,  is  profoundly  ambiguous.  It  would 

1  H.  Rickert:    Der  Gegenstand  der  Erkenntnis,  p.  165. 


REALISTIC  THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  315 

appear  that  while  Dewey,  for  example,  rescues  reality  from 
dependence  on  intellect,  he  is  satisfied  to  leave  it  in  the 
grasp  of  that  more  universal  experience  which  is  "a  matter 
of  functions  and  habits,  of  active  adjustments  and  re- 
adjustments, of  coordinations  and  activities,  rather  than  of 
states  of  consciousness."  1  In  any  case  the  issue  is  clear. 
A  thorough-going  realism  must  assert  independence  not 
only  of  thought,  but  of  any  variety  whatsoever  of  experi- 
encing, whether  it  be  perception,  feeling,  or  even  the  instinc- 
tive response  of  the  organism  to  its  environment. 

§  6.  We  are  now  prepared  for  a  final  statement  of  the 
realistic  theory  of  independence.     It  means  that  things 
may  be,  and  are,  directly  experienced  without 


dependence  of      circumstance. 

The  radical  character  of  this  doctrine  ap- 
pears most  clearly  in  connection  with  the  con- 
temporary use  of  the  word  'experience.'  According  to 
realism,  experience  may  be  expressed  as  (a)  Re,  where  a  is 
that  which  is  experienced,  and  Re  the  experience-relation; 
and  where  a  is  independent  of  Re.  Now  the  term  '  experi- 
ence '  may  be  used  loosely  to  mean  either  a,  Re,  or  (a)  Re. 
But  if  we  are  to  regard  experience  as  the  most  comprehen- 
sive manifold,  it  is  of  crucial  importance  to  distinguish 
these  uses  of  the  term.  To  use  it  in  either  of  the  last  two 
senses,  in  which  it  embraces  Re,  is  to  arrive  at  a  phenom- 
enalism or  panpsychism,  in  which  the  ultimate  com- 
ponents of  reality  are  experiences.2  To  use  it  in  the  former 
sense,  to  mean  what  is  or  may  be  experienced,  but  which 
need  not  be  experienced,  will  lead  to  realism. 

But  it  is  better  that  realism  should  reject  the  term 
'  experience  '  (or  even  "pure  experience  ")  3  altogether,  in  this 

1  Dewey:  op.  cit.,  p.  157;  cf.  above,  p.  225. 

*  Cf.  W.  K.  Clifford:  "The  elementary  feeling  is  a  thing  in  itself," 
Lectures  and  Essays,  pp.  283,  sq. 

1  Cf.  James:  "A  World  of  Pure  Experience,"  in  Essays  in  Radical 
Empiricism.  For  James's  use  of  the  term  experience,  cf.  above,  pp.  224- 
225  and  below,  pp.  264-265. 


316       PRESENT    PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

ultimate  application  —  for  it  gives  disproportionate  em- 
phasis to  an  accidental  feature  of  things.  Since  Re  is 
not  necessary  to  things,  there  is  no  reason  for  limiting 
'  things '  even  to  what  can  be  experienced.  Such  a  circum- 
scription is  groundless  and  misleading.  Professor  Montague 
has  proposed  the  term  "  pan-objectivism "; l  but  this  is 
not  altogether  satisfactory,  because  it  suggests  the  correla- 
tion of  object  and  subject.  The  expression,  'neutral  enti- 
ties,' will  perhaps  serve  better  to  emphasize  the  indifference 
of  the  terms  of  experience,  not  only  to  their  subjective 
relations,  but  to  their  physical  relations  as  well.  We  need 
some  such  expression  with  which  to  refer  to  the  alphabet  of 
being,  as  distinguished  from  any  and  all  of  the  familiar 
groupings  which  its  elements  compose. 

The  realist,  in  short,  must  resist  every  impulse  to  provide 
a  home  for  the  elements  of  experience,  even  in  '  experience ' 
itself.  To  bestow  on  them  this  independence  may  seem 
but  a  bad  return  for  their  usefulness,  "since  thereby  they 
are  turned  out  of  house  and  home,  and  set  adrift  in  the 
world,  without  friend  or  connection,  without  a  rag  to  cover 
their  nakedness."2  The  idealist  will  doubtless  inquire  how 
the  facts  can  be  "there  independently  and  in  themselves," 
without  being  somewhere;3  and  will  be  uneasy  until  he  has 
brought  them  home  to  consciousness.  But  the  realist 
must  be  satisfied  to  say  that  in  the  last  analysis  the  ele- 
ments of  experience  are  not  anywhere;  they  simply  are 
what  they  are.  They  find  a  place  when  they  enter  into 
relationships;  but  they  bring  into  these  relationships  a 
character  which  they  possess  quite  independently  and  by 
themselves. 

§  7.  We  must  now  examine  the  arguments  by  which 
neo-realism  seeks  to  prove  its  cardinal  principle  of  inde- 

1  W.  P.  Montague:  "Contemporary  Realism  and  the  Problems  of 
Perception,"  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  IV,  1907, 
P-  377- 

1  Reid's  comment  on  Hume,  in  his  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind, 
p.  103. 

»  H.  H.  Joachim:  The  Nature  of  Truth,  p.  40. 


REALISTIC  THEORY  OF   KNOWLEDGE          317 

pendence.  Owing  to  the  present  state  of  the  question, 
realists  have  been  largely  occupied  with  the  disproof  of 
The  Arguments  the  contrary  thesis  to  the  effect  that  the  cog- 
forindepen-  nitivc  consciousness  conditions  being.  This 

dence.    The  ,  .  .    .         .  .      r;  , 

Negative  Argu-  contrary  thesis,  maintained  by  idealism,  has 
ment  obtained  so  wide  an  acceptance  as  to  create 

a  presumption  against  the  theory  of  independence.  Be- 
fore establishing  realism,  then,  it  is  necessary  to  refute 
idealism. 

In  the  first  place,  realism  contends  that  idealism  has  not  • 
proved  its  case.  It  has  depended  for  such  proof  upon  fal- 
lacious forms  of  procedure,  such  as  those  which  I  have 
named  '  argument  from  the  ego-centric  predicament,'  and 
'  definition  by  initial  predication.'  Post-Kantian  idealism 
has  contributed  a  further  argument  to  the  effect  that  the 
synthetic  unity,  or  logical  structure,  which  must  be  im- 
puted to  reality,  is  an  act  of  thought.  But  this  argument 
is  also  fallacious,  in  that  it  either  virtually  relies  on 
one  of  the  former  fallacies,  or  invests  'thought'  with  a 
peculiar  unifying  power  of  which  no  one  has  ever  given 
any  intelligible  account.  Since  the  proofs  of  idealism  have 
already  been  examined,  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into 
detail  here.1 

We  have  also  found,  in  the  second  place,  that  idealism  is 
beset  with  a  difficulty  of  its  own  invention  —  the  difficulty 
of  subjectivism  or  solipsism.  If  consciousness  is  construed 
as  owning  its  objects,  so  that  they  arise  and  perish  with  its 
several  acts  or  states,  then  the  knowledge  of  the  same  thing 
by  different  knowers  or  by  the  same  knower  at  different 
times  becomes  impossible.  There  can  be  no  real  identity, 
but  only  a  manifold  of  unique  and  irrelevant  units  of  con- 
sciousness. "If  we  say  that  they  resemble  one  another, 
we  can  only  mean  that  the  judgment  that  they  resemble 
one  another  exists,  and  this,  in  turn,  can  only  mean  that 
some  one  judges  that  this  judgment  exists,  and  so  on. 
And  if  we  say  that  the  same  presentation  may  exist  hi 
1  See  above,  pp.  156-162. 


3l8        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

different  instances,  this  again  can  only  mean  that  some 
one  judges  it  to  be  so."1  When,  in  order  to  escape  this 
difficulty,  idealism  conceives  of  "a  world  already  determined 
by  thought"  that  is  "prior  to,  and  conditions,  our  indi- 
vidual acquaintance  with  it,"  then  idealism  has  virtually 
withdrawn  its  initial  version  of  consciousness  as  owning 
its  objects,  with  the  result  that  both  the  difficulty  and  the 
solution  become  gratuitous.2  In  other  words,  idealism  can- 
not affirm  its  central  thesis  without  taking  up  a  position 
which  is  on  its  own  admission  untenable. 

This  is  a  suitable  occasion,  in  the  third  place,  for  intro- 
ducing an  objection  which  idealism  in  its  turn  urges  against 
realism.  It  is  a  negative  application  of  'the  ego-centric 
predicament.'  If  this  predicament  does  not  prove  idealism, 
it  is  argued  that  it  at  least  renders  it  impossible  to  prove 
realism.  We  cannot,  perhaps,  prove  that  everything  is 
known;  but  we  certainly  cannot,  without  contradiction, 
know  that  there  is  anything  that  is  not  known.  In  so  far 
as  this  objection  is  purely  dialectical,  it  has  been  sufficiently 
answered  by  Mr.  Russell.  "When  we  know  a  general 
proposition,"  he  says,  "  that  does  not  require  that  we  should 
know  all  or  any  of  the  instances  of  it.  'All  the  multiplica- 
tion-sums that  never  have  been  and  never  will  be  thought 
of  by  any  human  being  deal  with  numbers  over  1,000'  is 
obviously  a  true  proposition,  although  no  instance  of  such 
a  sum  can  ever  be  given.  It  is  therefore  perfectly  possible 
to  know  that  there  are  propositions  we  do  not  know,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  we  can  give  no  instance  of  such  a 
proposition."3 

The  reasons  for  supposing  that  there  are  things  that  are 
not  known  must  now  be  introduced.  We  have  thus  far 

1  B.  Russell:    "Meinong's  Theory  of   Complexes  and   Assumptions," 
III,  Mind,  N.  S.,Vol.  XIII,  1904,  p.  513.     Cf.  passim. 

2  T.  H.  Green:  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  third  edition,  p.  38  (italics  mine). 
Cf.  above,  pp.  162-163. 

1  B.  Russell:  "The  Basis  of  Realism, "  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Scientific 
Methods,  Vol.  VIII,  1911,  pp.  160-161.  For  the  idealistic  argument, 
cf.  J.  F.  Ferrier,  on  "  Agnoiology,"  or  Theory  of  Ignorance,  Institutes  of 
Metaphysics,  pp.  405,  sq. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF    KNOWLEDGE  319 

done  no  more  than  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  realistic 
theory  of  independence,  by  refuting  the  contrary  theory, 
and  by  denying  the  charge  that  the  realistic  theory  is 
inherently  absurd. 

§  8.  The  most  general  argument  for  realism  is  an  appli- 
cation of  the  theory  of  the  external  or  extrinsic  character  of 
relations.   According  to  the  contrary  view,  rela- 

The  Argument     ..  J       .     '   ,     . 

from  the  tions  penetrate,  possess,  and  compromise  their 

Externality  terms,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the 
terms  from  the  relation  without  destroying 
them.  But  according  to  the  theory  of  the  externality  of 
relations,  terms  acquire  from  their  new  relations  an  added 
character,  which  does  not  either  condition,  or  necessarily 
alter,  the  character  which  they  already  possess. 

The  procedure  of  logic  and  mathematics  —  any  procedure, 
in  fact,  which  employs  the  method  of  analysis — is  necessarily 
committed  to  the  acceptance  of  the  externality  of  relations. 
The  method  of  analysis  presupposes  that  the  nature  and 
arrangement  of  the  parts  supplies  the  character  of  the  whole. 
If  such  were  not  the  case  the  specification  of  the  parts  and 
their  arrangement  would  not  afford  a  description  of  the 
whole,  and  one  would  have  to  be  content  with  an  immediate 
or  mystical  apprehension  of  it.  Analysis  and  description 
by  specification  would  not  constitute  knowledge  at  all,  did 
not  things  actually  possess  the  structure  (a)R(b),  made  up 
of  the  intrinsic  characters  a  and  b,  in  the  relation  R.  This 
does  not  mean  that  complexes  may  not  be  dependent  on 
one  another,  that  (a)R(b)  may  not  cause  (c)R(d);  but 
only  that  if  such  is  the  case,  the  relations  are  nevertheless 
something  added  to  the  terms.  Just  as  a  does  not  derive  its 
content  from  R(b),  so  (c)R(d)  does  not  derive  its  content 
from  the  causal  relation  to  (a)R(b) ;  it  simply  possesses  that 
causal  relation  over  and  above  the  content  it  possesses  by 
virtue  of  its  component  terms  and  relation.  It  happens 
that  that  which  is  c  and  d  in  the  relation  R  is  also  causally 
dependent  on  (a)R(b). 

Now  what  is  the  application  of  this  to  the  question  of  the 


320        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

dependence  of  things  on  knowledge?1  It  shows,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  content  of  things  is  in  no  case  made  up  of 
relations  beyond  themselves.  So  the  content  of  a  thing 
cannot  be  made  up  of  its  relation  to  consciousness.  Of 
course,  the  consciousness  of  a  thing  is  made  up  of  the  thing 
and  its  relation  to  consciousness.  But  the  thing  then  contrib- 
utes its  own  nature  to  the  conscious  complex,  and  does 
not  derive  it  therefrom.  If  a  is  in  relation  to  consciousness, 
then  consciousness-of-a  is  constituted  in  part  of  a,  but  a 
itself  is  not  constituted  of  consciousness.  It  follows,  in  the 
second  place,  that  whether  the  relation  of  a  thing  to  con- 
sciousness is  a  relation  of  dependence  or  not,  is  an  empiri- 
cal question.  It  is  necessary  to  examine  the  relation,  and 
see.  In  other  words,  it  is  impossible  to  infer  dependence 
simply  from  the  fact  of  relation.  It  is  impossible  to  argue 
that  'independent  reals'  must  stand  absolutely  out  of 
relation  to  consciousness,  if  they  are  to  be  independent. 

The  theory  of  the  externality  of  relations  is  not  sufficient 
in  itself  to  establish  the  case  for  realism.  Indeed  it  is  so 
general  in  scope  as  to  argue  pluralism  rather  than  realism.2 
It  shows  that  the  nature  of  things  is  prior  to  the  relations 
into  which  they  enter,  and  that  the  nature  of  these  relations, 
whether  of  dependence  or  not,  is  an  extrinsic  fact.  So  that 
we  are  left  to  conclude  that  many  things  are  interdependent 
or  not,  as  the  facts  may  prove.  But  it  remains  for  realism 
to  investigate  the  precise  nature  of  the  relation  of  things 
to  consciousness,  to  discover  whether  or  no  this  is  a  rela- 
tion of  dependence.  And  this  is  now  a  question  of  fact, 
like  the  question  of  the  relation  of  the  tides  to  the  moon, 
or  the  relation  of  Mother  Goose  to  the  atomic  weight 
of  hydrogen. 

1  Cf.  Russell:  op.  cit.,  and  "  On  the  Nature  of  Truth,"  Proc.  Aristo- 
telian Soc.,  N.S.,  Vol.  VII,  1906-1907,  pp.  37-44;  E.  G.  Spaulding:  "The 
Logical  Structure  of  Self-Refuting  Systems,"  Phil.  Review,  Vol.  XIX,  1910, 
pp.  276-301;  and  above,  pp.  244-246. 

1  Precisely  as  the  contrary  theory  argues  monism  rather  than  idealism, 
cf.  Royce:  "The  World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  I,  Lect.  III.  For  plural- 
ism, cf.  above,  pp.  242-249. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          321 

§  9.  The  empirical  argument  for  realism  turns  upon  the 
nature  of  mind,  and  the  specific  kind  of  relationship  which 
the  mind's  objects  sustain  to  it.  It  must,  of 
course>  De  assumed  that  consciousness  is  a 
Distinction  relationship,  as  has  been  shown  in  the  fore- 
andTwaJeness  Soing  chapter.  But  first  I  propose  to  consider 
an  intermediate  argument  to  the  effect  that 
consciousness  is  different  from  its  object  This  is  the  main 
contention  of  Mr.  G.  E.  Moore  in  the  several  papers  which 
he  has  contributed  to  this  subject.  The  idealist  "main- 
tains that  object  and  subject  are  necessarily  connected, 
mainly  because  he  fails  to  see  that  they  are  distinct,  that 
they  are  two,  at  all.  When  he  thinks  of  'yellow'  and  when 
he  thinks  of  the  'sensation  of  yellow/  he  fails  to  see  that 
there  is  anything  whatever  in  the  latter  which  is  not  in 
the  former."  But  it  is  evident  that  "sensation  of  yellow," 
contains  over  and  above  "yellow,"  the  element,  "sensa- 
tion," which  is  contained  also  in  "sensation  of  blue," 
"sensation  of  green,"  etc.  "Yellow  exists"  is  one  thing; 
and  "sensing"  it  is  another  thing. 

In  other  words,  the  object  of  a  sensation  is  not  the  sensa- 
tion itself.  In  order  that  a  sensation  shall  be  an  object,  it 
is  necessary  to  introduce  yet  another  awareness,  such  as 
introspection,  which  is  not  at  all  essential  to  the  meaning 
of  the  sensation  itself.  And  "the  existence  of  a  table  in 
space  is  related  to  my  experience  of  it  in  precisely  the  same 
way  as  the  existence  of  my  own  experience  is  related  to  my 
experience  of  that."  In  both  cases  awareness  is  evidently 
a  "distinct  and  unique  relation,"  "of  such  a  nature  that 
its  object,  when  we  are  aware  of  it,  is  precisely  what  it 
would  be,  if  one  were  not  aware."1 

But  what  awareness  is,  further  than  this,  Mr.  Moore  does 
not  inform  us.  Mr.  Russell  adds  that  it  is  "utterly  unlike 
other  relations,  except  that  of  whole  and  part,  in  that  one 

1  G.  E.  Moore:  "The  Refutation  of  Idealism,"  Mind,  N.S.,  Vol.  XII, 
1903,  pp.  442,  449,  453.  Cf.  also,  "The  Nature  and  Reality  of  Objects  of 
Perception,"  Proc.  of  the  Aristotelian  Soc.,  N.S.,  Vol.  VI,  1905-06. 

22 


322        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

of  its  terms  presupposes  the  other.  A  presentation  .  .  . 
must  have  an  object."1  But  there  is  so  little  to  stand  for 
it  besides  the  object,  that  one  could  scarcely  be  blamed  if 
he  allowed  Mr.  Moore's  distinction  to  lapse.  Furthermore, 
while  Mr.  Moore's  argument  does  prove  that  the  object 
does  not  contain  or  by  itself  imply  being  experienced,  it  does 
not  prove  that  it  may  not  actually  stand  in  some  sort 
of  dependent  relation  to  that  circumstance.  The  '  table  is 
in  my  room/  does  not  contain  awareness.  But  neither  does 
it  contain  '  transportation,'  although  it  may,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  have  been  put  there  by  an  expressman.  And  simi- 
larly it  may,  despite  Mr.  Moore's  argument,  have  been  put 
there  by  awareness.  Such  indeed  would  be  the  case, 
were  I  merely  imagining  the  table  to  be  in  my  room,  or 
judging  falsely  that  the  table  was  in  my  room.  As  Mr. 
Russell  himself  admits  in  a  later  discussion,  it  is  possible 
that  'table,'  'my  room,'  and  the  relation  'in,'  should  all 
be  related  to  mind,  and  compose  an  aggregate  on  that 
account,  although  the  table  is  not  actually  in  the  room.2 
In  other  words,  awareness  creates  an  indirect  relation 
among  its  objects,  by  virtue  of  bringing  them  severally  into 
the  direct  relation  of  awareness.  And  it  is  open  to  anyone 
to  maintain  that  this  indirect  relation  is  the  only  relation 
which  things  have  inter  se;  or  that  any  specific  relation, 
such  as  the  physical  relation,  is  a  case  of  this  indirect 
relation;  or  that  things  are  actually  brought  into  new 
cross-relations  by  means  of  this  indirect  relation. 

§  10.  We  need,  in  other  words,  to  forsake  dialectics,  and 
observe  what  actually  transpires.  We  then  find  that 
The  Argument  consciousness  is  a  species  of  function,  exercised 
from  the  Nature  by  an  organism.  The  organism  is  correlated 
with  an  environment,  from  which  it  evolved, 
and  on  which  it  acts.  Consciousness  is  a  selective  response 

1  B.  Russell:  op^cit.,  p.  515. 

*  "Every  judgment  is  a  relation  of  a  mind  to  several  objects,  one  of 
which  is  a  relation;  the  judgment  is  true  when  the  relation  which  is  one 
of  the  objects  relates  the  other  objects,  otherwise  it  is  false."  B.  Russell: 
Philosophical  Essays,  p.  181. 


REALISTIC   THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE          323 

to  a  preexisting  and  independently  existing  environment. 
There  must  be  something  to  be  responded  to,  if  there  is  to 
be  any  response.  The  spacial  and  temporal  distribution  of 
bodies  in  its  field  of  action,  and  the  more  abstract  logical 
and  mathematical  relationships  which  this  field  contains, 
determine  the  possible  objects  of  consciousness.  The 
actual  objects  of  consciousness  are  selected  from  this 
manifold  of  possibilities  in  obedience  to  the  various 
exigencies  of  life. 

It  follows  that  the  objects  selected  by  any  individual 
responding  organism  compose  an  aggregate  denned  by  that 
relationship.  What  such  an  aggregate  derives  from  con- 
sciousness will  then  be  its  aggregation,  and  nothing  more. 
A  subjective  manifold  will  be  any  manifold  whose  inclusion 
and  arrangement  of  contents  can  be  attributed  to  the  order 
and  the  range  of  some  particular  organism's  response. 
The  number  of  the  planets,  for  example,  and  their  relative 
distances  from  the  sun,  cannot  be  so  accounted  for;  but 
the  number  of  the  planets  which  I  have  seen,  the  temporal 
order  in  which  I  have  seen  them,  and  their  apparent  distances, 
can  be  so  accounted  for.  In  other  words,  the  full  astronomical 
nature  of  the  planetary  system,  together  with  the  particular 
circumstances  of  my  sensibility,  defines  a  limited  manifold 
which  is  called  the  planetary  system  for  me,  or  so  far  as 
belonging  to  my  mental  history.  The  physical  planetary 
system  is  thus  prior  to  and  independent  of  each  and  every 
mental  planetary  system.  And  every  question  of  subjec- 
tivity or  objectivity  is  to  be  tested  in  the  same  fashion. 


III.  TRUTH  AND  ERROR 

§  ii.  The  proof  of  the  independence  theory  from  an 
examination  of  the  concrete  nature  of  mind,  defines  at  the 
The  Realm  of  same  time  the  principle  which  must  be 
Subjectivity  employed  in  solving  the  problems  connected 
with  subjectivity.  We  have  found  that  the  selective  action 
of  consciousness  not  only  invests  things  with  the  character 


324        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

of  'object'  or  'content;'  but  at  the  same  time,  accord- 
ing as  it  excludes  or  includes,  also  defines  characteristic 
fragments,  foreshortenings,  and  assemblages  of  things,  that 
may  not  coincide  with  physical  and  logical  lines  of  cleavage. 
And  these  may  be  said  to  be  subjective. 

The  clearest  instance  of  subjectivity  in  this  sense  is 
perspective,  or  point  of  view,  in  which  a  projection  defined 
by  the  position  of  the  organism  is  abstracted  from  the 
plenum  of  nature.  Such  an  experience  does  not  create  its 
content  but  distinguishes  it,  by  virtue  of  bringing  some  of 
the  environment  into  a  specific  relation  that  is  not  sustained 
by  the  rest.  The  so-called  '  secondary  qualities,'  such  as 
heat,  color,  sound,  etc.,  must  be  dealt  with  by  the  same  prin- 
ciple. The  simple  qualities  themselves  evidently  cannot  be 
subjective,  any  more  than  they  can  be  physical.  How  far, 
if  at  all,  the  spacial  and  temporal  relations  of  these  qualities 
may  be  regarded  as  subjective,  will  depend  entirely  on  how 
far  these  relations  may  be  attributed  to  the  sentient  action 
of  the  organism.1 

Subjective  manifolds,  or  fictions,  once  instituted  by  the 
action  of  consciousness,  may  become  stereotyped.  They 
may  be  remembered  or  described;  and  through  tradition 
and  art,  they  may  be  incorporated  more  or  less  permanently 
into  the  environment.  Such  being  the  case,  they  may  be 
mistaken  for  what  they  are  not,  and  thus  give  rise  to  illusion 
and  error. 

§  12.  Subjectivity  accounts  for  the  possibility  of  error; 
but  it  does  not  in  itself  constitute  error.  It  is  possible 
The  Sphere  of  ^or  ^he  mmd  to  "entertain"  daring  and 
Truth  and  original  speculations,  go  "wool-gathering," 
build  "castles  in  Spain,"  or  "imagine  a  vain 
thing,"  without  committing  error.  A  highly  speculative 
or  imaginative  mind  incurs  a  peculiar  liability  to  error, 

1  For  the  application  of  this  method,  cf.  W.  P.  Montague:  "Contempo- 
rary Realism  and  the  Problems  of  Perception,"  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and 
Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  IV,  1907,  No.  14;  T.  P.  Nunn:  "Are  Secondary 
Qualities  Independent  of  Perception?"  Proc.  Aristotelian  Soc.,  N.S.,  Vol. 
I,  1900-01;  E.  B.  Holt:  "The  Place  of  Illusory  Experience  in  a  Realistic 
World,"  in  The  New  Realism. 


REALISTIC  THEORY   OF   KNOWLEDGE  325 

which  is  the  price  it  pays  for  its  greater  chance  of 
truth.  But  there  is  no  error  until  fiction  is  mistaken 
for  fact;  and  there  is  no  truth  in  the  correlative  sense, 
until  a  content  of  mind  is  rightly  taken  to  be  fact. 
Error  and  truth  arise  from  the  practical  discrepancy  or 
harmony  between  subjective  manifolds  and  the  manifolds 
of  some  independent  order. 

It  is  characteristic  of  truth,  says  Mr.  Russell,  to  be  a 
"mixture  of  dependence  upon  mind  and  independence 
of  mind."  Contemporary  controversies  concerning  truth 
have  been  largely  due  to  the  attempt  to  place  it  wholly  with- 
out mind  or  wholly  within.  The  former  attempt,  illus- 
trated by  Mr.  Russell's  earlier  view,  leads  inevitably  to  the 
admission  of  "objective  falsehoods,"  an  admission  which  is 
"the  very  reverse  of  plausible."1  The  attempt,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  place  truth  wholly  within  the  mind,  leads  to 
even  more  insuperable  difficulties.  This  attempt  is  illus- 
trated by  Mr.  Joachim's  monistic-idealistic  theory  of  truth, 
according  to  which  truth  is  the  "systematic  coherence"  of 
the  absolute  whole  of  experience.  The  distinction  between 
truth  and  error  reduces  to  the  difference  between  complete 
and  partial  experience.  But  the  result  is  that,  humanly 
speaking,  there  can  be  no  truth,  even  the  truth  that  there  is 
truth;  since  even  Mr.  Joachim's  experience  is  partial, 
and  there  is  thus  no  way  of  distinguishing  his  theory  of 
truth  from  error.2 

Pragmatism  alone  has  consistently  maintained  that  truth 
and  error  have  to  do  with  the  action  of  mind  in  relation  to 
an  environment.  Truth  is  neither  coherence  among  things 
merely,  nor  the  complete  internal  coherence  of  thought;  but 
a  harmony  between  thought  and  things.  Similarly,  error  is 
neither  an  incoherence  among  things  merely,  nor  the  incom- 

1  B.  Russell:  op.  cit.,  pp.  184,  177,  173.  Cf.  "On  the  Nature  of 
Truth,"  Proc.  Aristotelian  Sac.,  N.S.,  Vol.  VII,  1906-1907,  pp.  44-49. 

1  H.  Joachim:  The  Nature  of  Truth,  ch.  Ill;  cf.  above,  pp.  184-188. 
Mr.  Joachim  himself  admits  the  difficulties  of  his  position;  cf.  Ch.  IV. 
For  Mr.  Russell's  criticism,  see  "The  Monistic  Theory  of  Truth,"  Philo- 
sophical Essays. 


326        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

plete  coherence  of  thought;  but  a  discrepancy  between 
thought  and  things.  Pragmatism  has  maintained,  further- 
more, that  the  harmony  and  discrepancy  in  question  is 
practical.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  say  that  a  true  belief  must 
have  a  thing  corresponding  to  it,  for  false  belief  has  its 
object  as  well.  Nor  will  it  do  to  say  that  a  true  belief 
must  resemble  a  thing:  because,  in  the  first  place,  that  is 
not  sufficient,  since  a  belief  must  mean  its  object;  and 
because,  in  the  second  place,  it  is  contrary  to  fact,  since  it 
need  not  resemble  its  object.  There  seems  to  remain  only 
the  alternative  of  regarding  truth  as  a  kind  of  right  action 
on  a  thing,  and  error  as  a  kind  of  mistake. 

But  pragmatism,  also,  has  been  betrayed  into  a  character- 
istic difficulty.  Through  excessive  emphasis  on  the  practi- 
cal aspect  of  truth,  it  has  seemed  to  make  truth  after  all 
subjective;  and  without  that  insurance  against  a  vicious 
relativism  which  idealism  obtains  from  its  conception  of 
an  absolute  subject.1  It  is  possible,  I  think,  to  formulate 
a  theory  that  shall  possess  the  merits  of  these  views  without 
succumbing  to  their  difficulties. 

§  13.  Truth  and  error  arise  when  some  content  of  mind 
is  further  dealt  with  in  a  characteristic  fashion.  It  is  pos- 
Mistaking  and  sible  for  the  mind  to  apprehend,  speculate,  or 
Right  judging  imagine,  merely;  but  in  this  there  is  neither 
truth  nor  error.  It  is  also  possible  for  the  mind  to  believe, 
that  is,  adopt,  for  the  purpose  of  action.  The  truth  or  error 
of  the  belief  is  then  relative  to  the  interest  and  the  circum- 
stances which  determine  the  success  of  the  action.  Thus  I 
may  accept  the  content  of  my  perception  as  something  to 
be  dealt  with  physically,  in  the  interest  of  self-preservation. 
In  case  such  action  is  well  taken,  it  is  true;  in  case  it  is 
mistaken,  it  is  false,  or  illusory.  But  the  same  content  may 
be  dealt  with  in  another  fashion  without  error.  I  may,  for 
example,  disbelieve  it,  or  discount  it,  with  reference  to  my 
physical  action;  or  being  interested,  let  us  say,  in  the  col- 
lection of  instances  of  illusion,  I  may  count  it  as  one. 
1  For  the  pragmatist  theory,  cf.  above,  pp.  203-213. 


REALISTIC  THEORY  OF   KNOWLEDGE          327 

On  the  other  hand  consider  the  case  of  an  idea  in  the 
discursive  sense,  an  idea  of  something.  It  is  an  idea  of 
something  by  virtue  of  the  fact  that  it  is  connected  through 
my  plans  or  expectations  with  some  portion  of  the  environ- 
ment. And  in  this  case,  there  is  nothing  intrinsically 
either  true  or  false  in  a,  or  in  any  relation  of  a  to  b,  except 
that  of  my  intention.  Whatever  a  be,  whether  fact  or 
fiction,  it  is  then  true  only  when  the  use  I  make  of  it  is 
successful;  or  false  when  the  plans  I  form  with  it,  or  the 
expectations  I  base  on  it,  fail. 

If  this  be  regarded  as  subjectivistic,  it  can  only  be  because 
of  the  assumption  that  the  determination  of  success  and 
failure  is  subjective.  But  such  is  not  the  case.  Success 
and  failure  are  determined  by  interest,  means,  and  circum- 
stance.1 If  it  will  not  do  to  fish  for  mermaids,  this  is  because 
the  facts  are  not  consistent  with  the  method  I  employ  in  the 
interests  of  livelihood.  In  the  last  analysis  the  reason  for 
my  folly  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  image  of  a  mermaid  is  a 
composite  generated  by  the  selective  abstracting  and  group- 
ing of  consciousness.  The  fact  loosely  expressed  in  the 
judgment,  'there  are  no  mermaids,'  is  that  mermaid  is  a 
subjective,  and  not  a  physical,  manifold.  Hence  it  must  be 
treated  accordingly,  if  one  is  to  deal  with  it  successfully. 
And  similarly,  if  my  theoretical  hypothesis  is  a  mistaken 
one,  this  is  because  the  locality  to  which  my  hypothesis 
refers  me  thwarts  the  theoretical  purpose  for  which  I  have 
the  hypothesis. 

So  far  is  it  from  being  true  that  success  and  failure  are 
subjective,  that  the  subjective  satisfaction  or  discontent 
may  themselves  be  misleading.  I  may  have  the  right  idea 
when  I  am  most  discontented;  I  may  serenely  mistake 
fiction  for  fact,  and  heartily  enjoy  my  illusions.  And 
success  and  failure  may  be  foredoomed  without  being 
consummated,  as  one  may  have  the  right  key  without 
unlocking  the  door,  or  play  the  fool  without  paying  the 
penalty. 

1  Cf.  below,  pp.  333-334- 


328        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

The  absolute  thus  reappears  in  the  commonplace  guise  of 
fact.  Mind  operates  in  an  environment,  and  succeeds  or 
fails,  according  as  it  meets  or  violates  the  terms  which  the 
environment  dictates.  Truth  is  the  achievement,  and 
error  the  risk,  incidental  to  the  great  adventure  of  knowl- 
edge. But  eternal  being,  and  the  order  of  nature,  are  not 
implicated  in  its  vicissitudes.  So  that  if  there  be  any 
virtue  in  these  terms  "Eternal,"  "Order,"  or  "Absolute," 
they  can  be  transposed  without  loss. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
A  REALISTIC  PHILOSOPHY  OF  LIFE 

§  i.  IT  will  doubtless  appear  to  most  readers  of  this  book 
that  realism  is  a  philosophy  of  disillusionment.     And  in  a 

Enlightenment     S6I1Se   this  is  the   Case-      As  *  P<>lemic,   TCaUsm 

and  Disillusion-  is  principally  concerned  to  discredit  romanti- 
cism; that  is  the  philosophy  which  regards 
reality  as  necessarily  ideal,  owing  to  the  dependence  of 
things  on  knowledge.  Realism,  in  other  words,  rejects  the 
doctrine  that  things  must  be  good  or  beautiful  or  spiritual  in 
order  to  be  at  all.  It  recognizes  the  being  of  things  that 
are  wholly  non-spiritual,  of  things  that  are  only  acciden- 
tally spiritual,  and  of  things  that,  while  they  belong  to  the 
domain  of  spirit,  nevertheless  antagonize  its  needs  and  aspi- 
rations. The  universe,  or  collective  totality  of  being,  con- 
tains things  good,  bad,  and  indifferent.  But  before  one 
hastily  concludes  that  realism  discourages  endeavor  and 
discredits  faith,  one  will  do  well  to  recall  that  there  is  a 
sense  in  which  disillusionment  is  a  source  of  power. 

Life  has  maintained  itself,  and  promoted  its  interests,  in 
proportion  as  it  has  become  aware  of  the  actual  character 
of  its  environment.  It  is  the  practical  function  of  intelli- 
gence, not  to  read  goodness  into  the  facts,  but  to  lay  bare 
the  facts  in  all  their  indifference  and  brutality;  so  that 
action  may  be  contrived  to  fit  them,  to  the  end  that  good- 
ness may  prevail.  Well  doing  is  conditioned  by  clear  see- 
ing. The  development  of  intelligence  as  an  instrument  of 
power  has  consisted  mainly  in  freeing  it  from  the  importu- 
nity of  ulterior  motives;  and  in  rendering  it  an  organ  of 
discovery,  through  which  the  native  constitution  of  things 
is  illuminated  and  brought  within  the  range  of  action. 
329 


330        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

Achievement  means  taking  advantage  of  things;  and  it  is 
the  function  of  intelligence  to  present  things,  roundly  and 
fearlessly,  so  that  they  may  serve  advantage. 

The  civilization  of  nature  has  proceeded  pari  passu  with 
the  abandonment  of  the  notion  that  nature  is  predetermined 
to  human  ends,  and  the  recognition  that  nature  has  odd  and 
careless  ways  of  its  own.  It  is  the  discovery  of  the  inde- 
pendent mechanisms  of  nature,  that  has  put  tools  into 
the  hands  of  man.  The  civilization  of  society  has  been 
served  best  by  those  who  have  been  most  clearly  aware 
of  its  present  failure.  Similarly,  within  any  field  of  in- 
dividual endeavor  it  is  the  sanguine  or  complacent  tem- 
perament that  is  ineffective.  It  is  the  man  who  has  no 
illusions  of  success,  that  veritably  succeeds  —  the  man 
that  measures  with  a  cool  eye  the  length  he  has  to  go, 
and  can  audit  his  own  accounts  without  over-estimating 
his  assets. 

All  this  would  be  too  obvious  to  repeat,  did  it  not  have  an 
important  bearing  on  the  present  state  of  philosophy.  The 
"new  enlightenment,"  with  which  realism  is  allied,  would 
extend  this  principle  of  success  to  the  larger  issues  with 
which  religion  and  philosophy  have  to  do;  but  finds  that  the 
ascendant  philosophy,  romanticism,  is  based  upon  another 
principle.  Men  are  to  be  reassured  and  comforted  by 
being  guaranteed  the  eternal  preeminence  of  the  good. 
Their  hope  is  to  lie  in  the  fact  that  the  indifference  of 
nature  and  the  failure  of  man  are  apparent  and  not  real. 
Their  hope  is  to  be  realized  by  that  act  of  imagination 
or  thought  which  recovers  the  whole,  and  seeing  it,  judges 
it  to  be  good.  Philosophy  is  itself  to  make  things  good; 
since  no  more  is  necessary  to  the  goodness  of  things  than 
their  "synthetic  unity." 

Realism,  on  the  other  hand,  proposes  that  philosophy, 
like  science,  shall  illuminate  things  in  order  that  action  may 
be  invented  that  shall  make  them  good.  Philosophy  must 
enable  man  to  deal  with,  and  take  advantage  of,  his  total 
environment,  as  science  adapts  him  to  his  proximate  physi- 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LIFE  331 

cal  environment.  It  must  exhibit  a  like  forbearance;  and 
avoid  confusing  the  present  opportunity,  mixed  and  doubt- 
ful as  it  is,  with  the  dream  of  consummate  fulfilment.  For 
the  question,  "What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  is  in  principle 
like  any  other  question  of  expediency  or  policy:  the  answer 
depends  on  what  actual  dangers  imperil  salvation,  and  what 
actual  instruments  and  agencies  are  available  for  the 
achieving  of  it.  To  argue  the  eternal  and  necessary  good- 
ness of  things  from  the  implications  of  knowledge,  is  to 
encourage  a  comfortable  assurance  concerning  salvation, 
when  it  is  the  office  of  religion  to  put  men  on  their  guard 
and  rouse  them  to  a  sense  of  peril. 

If,  then,  realism  is  a  philosophy  of  disillusionment,  this 
cannot  be  said  to  its  disparagement.  Realism  does,  it 
is  true,  reject  the  notion  that  things  are  good  because  they 
must  be  thought  to  be  so;  but  it  does  not  in  the  least 
discourage  the  endeavor  to  make  them  good,  or  discredit 
the  hope  that  through  endeavor  they  may  become  good. 
On  the  contrary,  in  the  spirit  of  all  true  enlightenment,  it 
removes  illusions  only  in  order  to  lay  bare  the  confronting 
occasion  and  the  available  resources  of  action. 

§  2.  A  philosophy  of  life  must  always  contain  two 
principal  components,  a  theory  concerning  the  nature 

of  goodness   or  value,  and  a  theory  concern- 
Realism  and       .      6  _  ...  /  . 
the  Dependence  ing  the  conditions  and  prospect  of  its  reah- 

orvaiueon       zation.     The  former  is  the   central  topic  of 
ethics,  and  the  second  is  the  central  topic  of 
a  philosophy  of  religion. 

In  discussing  the  nature  of  goodness  or  value,  I  find  my- 
self in  disagreement  with  certain  eminent  realists  with 
whom  I  should  much  prefer  to  agree.  Mr.  G.  E.  Moore 
and  Mr.  Bertrand  Russell  both  contend  that  goodness  is  an 
indefinable  quality  which  attaches  to  things  independently 
of  consciousness.  Thus  Mr.  Moore  says:  "If  I  am  asked 
'What  is  good?'  my  answer  is  that  good  is  good,  and  that 
is  the  end  of  the  matter  ....  Being  good,  then,  is  not 
identical  with  being  willed  or  felt  in  any  kind  of  way,  any 


332        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

more  than  being  true  is  identical  with  being  thought  in 
any  kind  of  way."  l 

This  view  arises,  I  believe,  largely  from  a  misconception 
of  the  precise  scope  of  that  fundamental  realism  to  which 
both  of  these  writers  subscribe.  There  are  two  realistic 
contentions  that  are  germane  to  the  question  of  values. 
In  the  first  place,  consciousness  is  a  relation  into  which 
things  enter  without  forfeiting  their  independence.  To 
be  conscious  of  a  means  that  it  is  acted  on  in  a  peculiar 
manner;  and  while  this  action  gives  a  a  new  status  and 
new  connections,  it  does  not  condition  the  being  of  a,  or 
give  it  its  character  as  a.  Thus  if  I  desire  a,  it  becomes  a 
thing  desired,  and  is  connected  in  a  new  way  with  the 
other  things  which  I  desire,  or  with  the  things  I  remember, 
perceive,  etc.;  while  it  nevertheless  is,  and  is  a,  quite  inde- 
pendently of  this  circumstance.  But  it  is  entirely  conceiv- 
able that  the  value  of  a  should  consist  in  its  being  desired; 
in  other  words,  in  that  specific  relationship  which  the  desid- 
erative  consciousness  supplies.  We  should  then  say  that 
the  being  or  nature  of  things  is  independent  of  their  possess- 
ing value,  but  not  that  their  possessing  value  is  independent 
of  consciousness;  any  more  than  Mr.  Russell  himself 
would  say  that  a  proposition's  being  true  is  independent  of 
consciousness,  although  the  proposition  itself  is  quite 
independent  of  its  being  true.2 

In  the  second  place,  it  is  essential  to  realism  to  maintain 
that  a  proposition  is  independent  of  its  being  judged.  But, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  this  in  no  way  contradicts  the 
supposition  that  values  are  functions  of  consciousness.  For 
it  is  quite  possible  that  the  proposition, '  I  desire  a,'  should 
be  quite  independent  of  all  opinion  in  the  matter.  What  I 
actually  desire  is  dependent  neither  on  what  you  think 
about  it,  nor  even  on  what  I  think  about  it  myself. 

In  any  case,  there  seems  to  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact  that 

1  Cf.  Moore:  Principia  Ethica,  pp.  6, 137.    Cf.  Russell:  "The  Elements 
of  Ethics,"  in  his  Philosophical  Essays,  pp.  4-15. 
*  Cf.  above,  p.  325. 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY  OF  LIFE  333 

things  do  derive  value  from  their  being  desired,  and  possess 
value  in  proportion  as  they  are  desired.1  This  is  not  to 
be  deduced,  and  so  far,  Messrs.  Moore  and  Russell  are 
correct,2  from  the  general  idealistic  arguments.  It  is  not 
to  be  argued  from  the  fact  that  whenever  values  are  found 
they  stand  in  relation  to  the  finding  of  them.  It  is  to  be 
argued  only  from  the  fact  that  whenever  values  are  found 
they  stand  in  relation  to  some  desire  or  interest,  the  present 
finding  being  itself  entirely  negligible.  Thus,  if  a  value 
may  be  represented  as  (a)  R  (M1),  where  a  is  anything,  R 
is  the  relation  characteristic  of  consciousness,  and  M1  a 
particular  desiring  subject;  then,  the  finding  of  value 
must  be  represented  as  [(a)  R  (Af1)]  R  (M2),  where  M* 
represents  the  finding  subject,  and  where  the  smaller 
relationship  is  quite  independent  of  the  larger.  Neverthe- 
less we  find  empirically  that  anything  whatsoever  acquires 
value  when  it  is  desired.  There  is  no  quality,  or  combi- 
nation of  qualities,  that  is  inherently  valuable;  or  incapable 
of  possessing  value;  or  exclusively  valuable  in  the  sense 
that  things  must  be  valueless  without  it.  Such  interests  as 
that  of  desultory  curiosity,  or  promiscuous  acquisitiveness, 
may  invest  anything  with  value;  and  there  is  nothing  so 
precious  that  its  value  would  not  disappear  if  all  needs, 
likings,  and  aspirations  were  extinguished. 

§  3.  As  value  in  general  arises  from  a  relation  to 
The  Nature  of  mterest>  so  moral  value  arises  from  the  corn- 
Moral  Vaiue°  plexity  and  mutual  relations  of  interest.  To 
understand  the  peculiar  character  of  moral 
value  it  is  necessary  to  introduce  two  concep- 
tions, that  of  Tightness,  and  that  of  comparative  goodness. 
Rightness  is  the  character  possessed  by  action  that  con- 
duces to  goodness.  When  an  interest  is  confronted  by  an 
occasion,  or  particular  phase  of  the  environment,  there  is  an 
action  which  will  so  meet  the  occasion  as  to  fulfil  the  inter- 

1  For  a  fuller  treatment  of  this  topic,  cf.  the  author's  article  entitled 
"The  Definition  of  Value  "  in  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Psych,  and  Scientific  Methods, 
Vol.  XI,  1914,  No.  6;  and  his  Moral  Economy,  Ch.  I,  II  (on  moral  value), 
and  Ch.  V  (on  aesthetic  value). 

»  Cf.  Moore:  op.  cit.,  §§  77,  85. 


334        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

est.  This  is  the  right  act  in  the  premises.  Thus  an  organism 
governed  by  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  will  act 
rightly  if  it  takes  the  food  and  leaves  the  poison,  or  attacks 
the  weaker  enemy  and  shuns  the  stronger.  The  right 
act  is  the  act  which  takes  advantage  of  circumstance; 
advantage  being  relative  at  the  same  time  both  to  the 
interest  which  governs  the  agent,  and  to  the  situation 
which  confronts  him. 

But  rightness  is  not  necessarily  moral;  it  may  be  merely 
intelligence  or  expediency.  Moral  values  appear  only 
when  there  is  a  question  of  comparative  value.  And  this 
question  arises  from  the  contact  and  conflict  of  interests. 
That  which  is  one  interest's  meat  is  another's  poison.  The 
act  which  is  right  in  that  it  promotes  one  interest,  is,  by 
the  same  principle,  wrong  in  that  it  injures  another  interest. 
There  is  no  contradiction  in  this  fact,  any  more  than  in  the 
fact  that  what  is  above  the  man  in  the  valley  is  below  the 
man  on  the  mountain.  There  is  no  contradiction  simply 
because  it  is  possible  for  the  same  thing  to  possess  several 
relations,  the  question  of  their  compatibility  or  incom- 
patibility being  in  each  case  a  question  of  empirical  fact. 

Now  just  as  an  act  may  be  both  right  and  wrong  in  that 
it  conduces  to  the  fulfilment  of  one  interest  and  the  detri- 
ment of  another;  so  it  may  be  doubly  right  in  that  it  con- 
duces to  the  fulfilment  of  two  interests.  Hence  arises  the 
conception  of  comparative  goodness.  If  the  fulfilment  of 
one  interest  is  good,  the  fulfilment  of  two  is  better;  and 
the  fulfilment  of  all  interests  is  best.  Similarly,  if  the 
act  which  conduces  to  goodness  is  right,  the  act  that  con- 
duces to  more  goodness  is  more  right,  and  the  act  which 
conduces  to  most  goodness  is  most  right.  Morality,  then, 
is  such  performance  as  under  the  circumstances,  and  in  view 
of  all  the  interests  affected,  conduces  to  most  goodness.  In 
other  words,  that  act  is  morally  right  which  is  most  right. 

It  follows  that  in  the  moral  sense  an  act  cannot  be  both 
right  and  wrong.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  maximum 
goodness  should  be  equally  well  promoted  by  several  acts, 


REALISTIC    PHILOSOPHY    OF    LIFE  335 

and  in  this  case  all  such  acts  would  be  morally  right.  But 
none  of  them  could  be  morally  wrong,  because  that  would 
require  that  it  should  be  conducive  to  less  goodness  than 
some  other  act,  and  this  by  definition  is  not  the  case. 
The  Objectivity  §4-  We  are  now  prepared  to  deal  with  a 
or  Absoluteness  further  question  that  has  assumed  prominence 
temporaryCCon-  m  contemporary  discussions.  "Our  question 
fusion  of  the  is,"  says  Professor  Mtinsterberg,  "whether 
we  have  to  acknowledge  anything  in  our  world 
as  absolutely  valuable."1 

This  question  can  be  answered  only  by  dividing  it.  In 
the  first  place,  values  are  not  absolute  in  the  sense  of  being 
independent  of  all  consciousness.  They  are  relative  to 
desire  or  interest.  Furthermore,  values  are  not  absolute 
in  the  sense  of  being  independent  of  individual  or  particular 
interests.  They  are  relative  not  only  to  individual  inter- 
ests, but  to  the  conflict  or  opposition  of  interests;  so  that 
they  are  at  the  same  time  both  positive  and  negative,  good 
and  bad. 

But  moral  value  transcends  this  relativity  because  it 
includes  it.  There  is  a  maximum  value,  or  summum 
bonum,  which  is  not  entirely  relative  to  any  particular 
interest,  simply  because  it  is  relative  to  all  interests.  It 
is  not  a  pure  goodness  or  perfection,  free  from  all  the 
qualifying  conditions  of  life,  but  the  best  for  existing  inter- 
ests under  existing  circumstances.  Such  a  best  may  be  said 
to  be  absolute,  however,  in  the  sense  that  it  is  best 
unambiguously;  it  cannot  be  also  not  the  best. 

Finally,  and  this  is  our  most  important  conclusion,  all 
values  whatsoever  are  absolute  in  the  sense  that  they  are 
independent  of  opinion.  If  a  is  good,  in  that  I  need,  like, 
or  aspire  to  it;  that  fact  can  be  neither  made  nor  un- 
made by  any  judgment  or  opinion  concerning  it.  The 

1  Eternal  Values,  p.  9.  I  have  dealt  with  this  question,  with  special 
reference  to  its  ambiguity,  in  an  article  entitled  "The  Question  of  Moral 
Obligation,"  Inter.  Jour,  of  Ethics,  Vol.  XXI,  1911.  Some  paragraphs  of 
this  article  are  reprinted  in  what  follows. 


336        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

general  acceptance  of  so  obvious  a  truth  is  prevented 
by  a  widespread  confusion  between  simple  desire,  and 
judgment  of  value;  the  relativity  of  value  to  the  former 
being  construed  as  a  relativity  to  the  latter.  This  con- 
fusion is  due  to  the  fact  that  there  are  affective  judgments, 
in  which  one  both  desires  an  object  and  at  the  same  time 
pronounces  it  good.  To  avoid  the  confusion,  it  is  necessary 
to  deal  with  these  components  discriminatingly:  and  to 
say  that  while  the  element  of  desire  invests  its  object  with 
goodness,  and  is  thus  a  fact  of  value;  the  element  of 
judgment  is,  like  all  judgments,  liable  to  truth  and  error 
according  to  its  agreement  or  disagreement  with  fact. 

This  distinction  is  obscured  and  the  whole  experience 
given  a  'pseudo-simplicity'  by  such  notions  as  'apprecia- 
tion/ and  'evaluation,'  or  Westermarck's  "emotions  of 
approval."  These  hybrids  are  supposed  to  be  at  the 
same  time  judgments  in  form,  and  facts  as  respects  their 
freedom  from  error.  But  this  is  simply  to  exploit  the 
equivocation  which  their  dual  nature  makes  possible. 
"To  name  an  act  good  or  bad,"  Westermarck  says,  "ulti- 
mately implies  that  it  is  apt  to  give  rise  to  an  emotion  of 
approval  or  disapproval  in  him  who  pronounces  the  judg- 
ment." And  again:  "The  moral  concepts,  then,  are  essen- 
tially generalizations  of  tendencies  in  certain  phenomena 
to  call  forth  moral  emotions."  By  such  considerations 
Westermarck  believes  that  he  shows  that  "the  presumed 
objectivity  of  moral  judgments  thus  being  a  chimera,  there 
can  be  no  moral  truth  in  the  sense  in  which  this  term  is 
generally  understood."1  Now  the  "moral  emotion"  either 
does  or  does  not  contain  a  judgment.  If  it  does  contain  a 
judgment  predicating  goodness  of  an  act,  then  that  judg- 
ment is  either  true  or  false  according  as  the  act  is  or  is 
not  "  apt  to  give  rise  to  an  emotion  of  approval"  in  the 
judge.  If  it  does  not  contain  a  judgment,  if  it  is  simply  an 
"indignant"  or  "kindly"  emotion  evoked  by  the  act,  then 

1  Westermarck,  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  Vol.  I,  pp. 
4,  S,  17- 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LIFE  337 

it  is  merely  evidence  for  the  truth  or  falsity  of  a  judgment 
about  the  goodness  of  the  act.  In  either  case,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  of  the  objectivity  or  truth  of  moral  judgments. 

If  it  is  not  permitted  to  define  simple  goodness  or  value 
in  terms  of  an  approving  judgment,  the  prohibition  is 
more  positive  and  unmistakable  in  the  case  of  moral  value. 
For  here  it  is  not  sufficient,  as  in  the  case  of  value  in  general, 
that  there  should  be  a  simple  and  direct  relation  to  a  cer- 
tain form  of  consciousness.  What  one  ought  morally  to 
do  is  not  simply  what  one  wants  to  do;  it  must  be  proved 
to  be  the  right  or  the  best,  as  having  a  certain  more  elaborate 
determination.  Thus  a  right  act  is  an  act  which  produces 
good,  that  is,  fulfils  an  inciting  interest,  in  a  given  situa- 
tion. It  is  therefore  determined  by  such  a  configuration 
regardless  of  opinion,  which  may  be  either  correct  or  incor- 
rect. Similarly,  what  is  best,  is  a  quantitative  derivative  of 
what  is  good.  It  must  depend  on  the  prior  nature  of 
goodness  and  whatever  category  of  quantity  is  here  applica- 
ble. It  is  not  uncommonly  supposed  that  if  what  is  desired 
is  good,  then  what  is  preferred  is  best.  But  the  same 
vicious  ambiguity  is  present  here.  If  preference  is  regarded 
simply  as  a  quantitative  variation  of  desire,  simply  as  more 
of  desire,  then  it  may  possibly  afford  a  means  of  defining 
quantitative  variations  of  goodness.  In  this  case,  however, 
the  fact  would  have  to  be  ascertained  by  some  method 
of  measurement,  and  no  authority  could  be  attached  to 
the  agent's  mere  profession  of  preference.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  preference  is  taken  to  mean  a  judgment  to  the  effect 
that  one  act  is  better  than  another,  then  reference  is  made 
to  a  predicate  'better';  which,  since  it  stands  in  some 
objective  relation  to  another  predicate  'good,'  can  be  used 
either  correctly  or  incorrectly. 

It  would  appear,  then,  that  the  definition  of  goodness  in 
terms  of  relation  to  desire,  while  it  may  easily  lead  to  con- 
fusion, does  not  in  fact  lend  any  support  whatever  to  the 
attempt  to  reduce  moral  values  or  obligations  to  the  judg- 
ments concerning  them,  and  is  therefore  not  relativistic 
23 


338        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

in  any  vicious  or  sceptical  sense.  And  such  being  the  case, 
there  is  no  need  of  the  characteristic  idealistic  remedy. 
Value  having  been  first  defined  as  'what  I  judge  to  be 
valuable/  this  is  amended  by  idealists  to  read,  'value  is 
what  I  judge  to  be  valuable,  when  I  judge  truly'  The 
qualifying  phrase  is  added  as  a  means  of  averting  the 
sceptical  consequences  of  the  rest.  Lest  the  conflicting 
judgments  of  mankind  shall  so  annul  one  another  as  to 
reduce  value  to  the  caprice  of  private  opinion,  true  value 
is  reserved  for  a  standard  or  absolute  judgment. 

The  general  theory  of  which  this  is  a  special  application 
has  already  been  examined;  but  the  ethical  application 
affords  a  striking  illustration  of  its  futility.  For  we  are  at 
once  set  to  inquiring  concerning  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
this  true  judgment  of  value,  so  that  we  may  know  it  from 
the  false.  We  are  as  much  enlightened  as  an  astronomer 
would  be,  were  he  informed  that  the  weight  of  Neptune  is 
what  a  true  judgment  would  pronounce  it  to  be.  And  if 
the  term  'true'  is  replaced  by  such  terms  as  'eternal,' 
'standard/  'universal/  'necessary/  'objective/  or  'con- 
sistent/ nothing  is  gained,  for  these  are  only  figurative 
or  synonymous  expressions  for  the  same  thing. 

This  accounts  for  the  emptiness  of  Kant's  famous 
"categorical  imperative."1  To  "act  only  on  that  maxim 
whereby  thou  canst  at  the  same  time  will  that  it  should 
become  a  universal  law,"  cannot  mean  that  you  should 
expect  others  to  act  as  you  do,  or  that  you  should  merely 
be  able  to  will  that  they  should  think  as  you  do.  There  is 
no  act  which  can  be  exactly  repeated;  and  there  is  no 
maxim  which  cannot  as  a  matter  of  fact  be  willed  to  be 
law  universal.  Kant  can  only  mean  that  you  should  so 
act  as  to  be  confirmed  in  your  act  by  every  impartial 
critical  judgment  that  is  in  possession  of  the  facts.  In 
other  words,  you  should  act  on  a  true  maxim,  or  you  ought 
to  do  what  it  is  truly  right  to  do.  But  to  determine  what 

1  Kant:  Metaphysic  of  Morals,  trans,  by  Abbott  ("  Kant's  Theory  of 
Ethics"),  p.  38. 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LIFE  339 

it  is  truly  right  to  do,  it  is  necessary  to  turn  to  the  objective 
context  of  action. 

Thus  to  give  values  the  absoluteness  or  objectivity  of 
fact,  it  is  necessary  only  to  distinguish  carefully  between  the 
fact  of  desire  which  invests  its  objects  with  value,  and  judg- 
ments concerning  such  facts.  "If  one  understands  .  .  . 
by  valuing  (Wertung)  exclusively  the  arlectional  disposition 
which  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  value  relation,"  says  Ehrenfels, 
"then  it  is  clear  that  valuing  either  exists  or  does  not  exist, 
but  can  be  neither  true  nor  false,  inasmuch  as  these  attri- 
butes can  attach  only  to  judgments."  l  The  relativity 
of  value  to  'valuing/  or  to  some  desiderative  action  of 
mind,  no  more  prejudices  its  'objectivity/  than  does 
their  relativity  to  parents  prejudice  the  objectivity  of  off- 
spring. Values  are  in  this  epistemological  sense  as  absolute 
as  any  other  fact  —  no  more,  no  less. 

§  5.  There  is  another  possible  meaning  of  'absolute 
value/  which  I  have  purposely  reserved  for  special 
treatment.  Is  value  absolute  in  the  sense  of 
SwSfThe06  possession  or  realization?  Is  value  the  uni- 
Absoiuteness  versal  or  fundamental  determination  of  things? 
To  this  question  we  must  now  turn.  It  is 
important  first  to  distinguish  clearly  between 
the  absoluteness  of  values  in  the  above  epistemological 
sense,  and  in  this  metaphysical  sense. 

The  discovery  that  values  possess  their  natures,  and  obey 
their  laws,  independently  of  opinion,  does  not  in  the  least 
guarantee  their  supremacy.  Nor  is  their  metaphysical 
status  improved  if  they  are  denominated  "eternal." 
Whatever  judgment  is  true,  such  as  'justice  is  right/  is 
eternal  in  the  sense  that  it  is  true  regardless  of  the  time 
at  which  it  may  be  pronounced.  This  would  be  the  case 

*C.  V.  Ehrenfels:  System  der  Werttheorie,  p.  102;  cf.  pp.  102-107.  It  must 
be  admitted,  I  think,  that  the  substitution  of  Wertung  (valuing)  for  Begeh- 
rung  (desiring)  is  unfortunate,  owing  to  the  readiness  with  which  the 
former  term  is  confused  with  judicial  "evaluation."  The  writers  of 
this  school  ('the  Austrian  School')  are  by  no  means  wholly  'guiltless  of 
confusion. 


340       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

even  if  it  happened  that  the  lightness  of  justice  was 
relative  to  a  temporal  epoch  of  civilization.  For  there 
would  then  be  a  proposition  predicating  its  Tightness  of 
that  epoch,  which  would  be  true  at  all  epochs.  And  a 
like  'eternity*  would  attach  to  the  proposition,  'I  once 
liked  figs/  or,  'savages  praise  homicide.'  It  is,  however, 
possible  to  discover  some  propositions  that  hold  of  life 
independently  of  any  particular  historical  epoch,  proposi- 
tions denning  the  broad  generic  features  of  life.  Such 
propositions  will  contain  time,  in  that  life  is  temporal;  but 
they  will  contain  time  as  a  variable  or  universal,  and  so 
will  hold  at  all  particular  times.  Such  propositions  consti- 
tute the  fundamental  principles  of  theoretical  ethics. 

But  propositions  concerning  value  may  hold  at  all 
times,  and  even  for  all  time,  and  yet  be  metaphysically 
insignificant.  It  may  be  objectively  and  universally 
true  that  justice  conduces  to  abundance  of  life,  but  this 
no  more  insures  abundance  of  life,  than  does  the  equal 
objectivity  and  universality  of  the  law,  'the  wages  of  sin 
are  death,'  insure  the  extinction  of  life.  The  principles  of 
value  are  abstract,  and  they  themselves  no  more  determine 
the  extent  to  which  they  shall  be  embodied  in  nature  and 
society,  than  do  the  principles  of  geometry  define  the 
number  of  physical  solids  that  shall  actually  exist. 

It  is  this  second  question  with  which  religion  is  con- 
cerned. It  is  vain,  therefore,  to  attempt  to  ground  relig- 
ious faith,  as  the  Ritschlians  have  attempted  to  do,1  on 
the  mere  validity  of  values.  For  religious  faith  has  to  do, 
not  only  with  the  truth  that  there  are  values,  but  with  the 
hope  that  they  may  prevail.  And  such  a  hope  can  be  justi- 
fied only  empirically,  by  an  examination  of  the  relation  of 
values  to  existence.  Are  values  effectual?  Do  they  in  any 
sense  constitute  the  ground  of  existence?  Is  there  evidence 
to  show  that  they  will,  in  the  long  run,  control  existence? 

1  Cf.  W.  Hermann:  Die  Metaphysik  in  der  Theologie;  cf.  criticism  by 
O.  Pfleiderer:  Philosophy  of  Religion,  trans,  by  Stewart  and  Menzies, 
Vol.  II,  pp.  188,  sq. 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LIFE  341 

§  6.  The  first  of  these  questions,  concerning  the  effectu- 
ality of  values,  can  be  answered  only  in  the  light  of  a 
Value  as  Cause  c^ear  conception  of  the  nature  of  causality  or 
or  Determina-  determination.  Is  there  such  a  thing  as 
moral  causality?  On  the  face  of  it,  there  is. 
Nothing  is  more  apparent  than  the  fact  that,  within 
limits,  man  does  what  he  wants  —  reaches  his  ends,  exe- 
cutes his  designs.  But  it  is  customary  to  suppose  that 
science  in  this  case  discredits  appearances.  It  is  supposed 
that  the  claim  for  moral  causation  rests  on  a  confused  notion 
of  causation,  the  only  clear  and  demonstrable  causation 
being  exhibited  in  mechanical  laws. 

We  should,  I  think,  be  forced  to  accept  this  conclusion 
if  moral  causation  were  necessarily  identified  with  the 
feeling  of  activity.  Naturalism  is  quite  correct  in  asserting 
that  the  only  intelligible  and  verified  cases  of  causation 
are  cases  of  determination  by  law.1  But  what  if  there  be 
cases  of  determination  by  moral  as  well  as  by  mechanical 
law? 

Physics  discovers  mechanical  laws  by  looking  for  the 
constant  features  of  physical  change;  especially  such  as 
may  be  expressed  as  mathematical  ratios  of  space,  time, 
and  their  complex  derivitives.  An  event  is  said  to  be 
explained  by  a  law,  when  it  can  be  deduced  by  assigning 
particular  values  to  the  variables  which  the  law  comprises. 
But  when  life  is  observed,  it  exhibits  constancy  of  another 
type,  a  constancy  of  interest.  The  complex  motions  of 
an  organism  may  be,  and  are,  explained,  by  regarding 
them  as  particular  instances  of  self-preservation.  Similarly, 
the  biographer  seeks  to  discover  certain  general  motives, 
such  as  ambition,  cupidity,  or  love;  and  having  such  mo- 
tives in  mind,  he  is  enabled  to  show  the  unity  and  con- 
sistency of  a  life  that  would  otherwise  be  a  mere  aggregate 
and  sequence  of  actions.  Steadiness  of  purpose  is  no  less, 
and  no  more,  a  matter  of  fact  than  conservation  of  energy. 
If  it  be  true  that  the  kinetic  energy  of  my  actions  is  quanti- 
1  Cf.  above,  pp.  99-100. 


342        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

tatively  proportionate  to  the  chemical  energy  of  the  nutri- 
tive substances  which  I  consume,  it  is  not  less  true  that 
my  actions  exhibit  a  qualitative  uniformity  which  can  only 
be  expressed  in  terms  of  the  interests  that  govern  me.  In 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  the  law  is  a  descriptive  sum- 
mary of  change;  relating  differences  to  an  underlying 
identity,  and  novelties  to  an  underlying  permanence. 

It  is  customary  to  suppose  that  the  accepted  validity 
of  mechanical  laws  somehow  stands  in  the  way  of  the 
operation  of  interest.  But  it  would  be  precisely  as  reason- 
able to  argue  that  the  de  facto  existence  of  interests  stands 
in  the  way  of  the  operation  of  force  and  energy.  The  sup- 
position of  an  absolute  incompatibility  between  mechanism 
and  interest  is,  however,  contrary  both  to  reason  and  to 
fact.  There  is  no  reason  why  an  identical  process  should  not 
obey  many  laws,  and  laws  of  different  types;  once  we  are 
rid  of  the  fallacy  of  'exclusive  particularity.'  It  is  entirely 
possible,  in  other  words,  that  a  process  should  exhibit 
constancy  in  several  respects.  Whether  such  multiple 
determination  is  possible  in  any  given  case  is  a  question 
of  fact. 

And,  turning  to  the  case  before  us,  it  is  evident  that 
such  multiple  determination  is  the  fact.  I  weigh  a  certain 
number  of  pounds  in  relation  to  the  mass  of  the  earth, 
and  at  the  same  time  am  actuated  by  certain  political 
motives.  Though  my  energy  be  proportionate  to  my 
nutrition,  it  may  none  the  less  be  expended  to  good  or 
bad  ends.  And  though  the  race  of  mankind  crawl  upon 
the  surface  of  a  planet  from  which  they  have  sprung,  and 
though  their  every  action  must  comply  with  conditions 
imposed  by  a  physical  environment,  it  is  not  less  true  that 
these  actions  exhibit  the  characters  of  civilization.  They 
satisfy  needs,  carry  out  wishes,  and  progressively  realize 
certain  common  and  ideal  aspirations. 

§  7.  There  is  sufficient  ground,  then,  in  reason  and  in 
fact,  for  asserting  that  interests  operate,  that  things  take  place 
because  of  the  good  they  promote.  And  this,  I  think,  is 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF   LIFE  343 

the  meaning  of  freedom,  both  as  an  actuality  and  as  a 
prerogative.  I  can  and  do,  within  limits,  act  as  I  will. 
Freedom,  Action,  in  other  words,  is  in  a  measure  governed 
Positive  and  by  desires  and  intentions.  And  this  measure 
is  capable  of  being  increased,  as  knowledge, 
skill,  and  cooperation  develop.  There  is  even  a  possibility 
and  prospect  of  its  increase  to  a  point  at  which  values  shall 
enter  into  possession  of  the  world  at  large,  as  they  have 
already  come  to  possess  it  in  part. 

There  is  also  a  negative  freedom.  There  is  freedom  from 
the  exclusive  control  of  mechanical  laws.  Indeed,  it  may 
be  said  that,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  control  of  life  by 
moral  laws  takes  precedence  of  its  control  by  mechanical 
laws.  For  the  unit  of  life,  the  animal  and  human  individ- 
ual, is  a  moral  and  not  a  mechanical  constant.  An  indi- 
vidual life  is  distinguished  by  what  it  seeks  to  preserve 
and  promote.  It  is  disjoined  from  the  spacial  and  material 
continuum  in  which  it  is  immersed,  by  its  partiality,  by 
the  specific  bias  and  preference  which  animate  it.  It  may 
even  be  said  that  in  a  measure  life  is  independent  of  mech- 
anism. For  if  an  individual  life  is  defined  by  its  interests, 
then  it  will  be  identified  with  a  physical  environment  to 
just  the  extent,  and  no  more,  that  its  interests  are  physical. 
If  any  life  can  be  said  to  consist  of  interests  that  are  inde- 
pendent of  the  spacial  and  temporal  juxtaposition  of  things, 
if  its  interests  can  be  said  to  be  capable  of  realization 
under  other  circumstances  and  through  other  means,  then 
there  is  ground  for  saying  that  such  an  individual  life  is 
non-physical,  and  not  necessarily  bound  up  with  the 
fortunes  of  the  body. 

There  is  also  a  freedom  from  the  control  of  social  or 
cosmic  moral  laws.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  every  indi- 
vidual is  morally  a  law  unto  himself.  This  means  only 
that  his  action  cannot  be  explained  altogether  by  the 
larger  purposes  which  embrace  him  along  with  others. 
That  there  are  such  larger  purposes,  and  that  they  are 
effectual,  will  not,  I  think,  be  disputed  by  anyone  who 


344       PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL  TENDENCIES 

admits  that  purposes  are  effectual  at  all.  But  social 
purposes  grow  out  of  individual  purposes,  and  never  wholly 
assimilate  them.  It  is  no  more  possible  to  explain  a  man's 
action  fully  in  terms  of  the  motives  which  actuate  a  social 
aggregate,  than  it  is  possible  to  explain  any  physical  event 
wholly  in  terms  of  the  laws,  if  there  be  such,  that  determine 
all  physical  events.  The  pluralistic  character  of  the  uni- 
verse is  reflected  in  life.  Interests,  like  other  things,  are 
more  or  less  bound  together.  Indeed,  in  this  case,  unity 
is  more  an  advantage  to  be  sought,  than  a  necessity  to  be 
deprecated. 

§  8.  All  religion  of  the  positive  and  hopeful  type  is  based 
on  the  belief  that  the  good  will  prevail.  As  James  has 
TheGroundsof  so  successfully  and  so  eloquently  urged,  this 
Religious  Belief  (joes  not  necessarily  mean  that  the  very  being 
of  things  is  grounded  in  their  goodness.  If  such  were  the 
case,  realism  would,  of  all  philosophies,  yield  least  com- 
fort to  religion.  For  realism  explicitly  repudiates  every 
spiritual  or. moral  ontology.  But  there  is  another  meaning 
of  religious  optimism,  that  is  not  less  comforting  for  being 
less  extravagant.  According  to  this  second  meaning, 
religious  belief  is  a  confidence  that  what  is  indifferent  will 
acquire  value,  and  that  what  is  bad  will  be  made  good  — 
through  the  operation  of  moral  agents  on  a  preexisting 
and  independent  environment. 

We  have  already  found  support  for  this  belief  in  the 
fact  that  the  good  is  both  objectively  real  and  actually 
operative.  There  is  promise  and  not  discouragement  in 
the  fact  that  nature  has  yielded  life;  and  in  the  fact  that 
life,  once  established,  has  imposed  its  interests  upon  the 
environment.  Were  it  necessary  that  the  good  should 
triumph  only  in  the  breach  of  mechanical  law,  then  the 
growth  of  science  would  indeed  be  ominous.  But  life 
triumphs  in  and  through  mechanical  law.  The  systems 
of  nature  enter  intact  into  the  systems  of  life.  The  tem- 
poral antecedence  of  mechanism  is  in  no  way  prejudicial 
to  the  subsequent  ascendency  of  life.  If  life  can  have 


REALISTIC  PHILOSOPHY   OF  LIFE  345 

established  itself  at  all,  it  can  by  the  same  means  enlarge 
its  domain.  And  if  interests  can  have  freed  themselves 
as  they  have  from  preoccupation  with  immediate  bodily 
exigencies,  they  can  by  a  further  and  like  progression  still 
further  reduce  the  tribute  which  they  pay  to  the  once 
omnipotent  environment. 

There  is  in  fact  such  a  forward  movement  of  life.  It 
becomes  freer  and  more  powerful  with  time.  The  forms 
of  life  which  are  most  cherished — intellectual  activity,  the 
exercise  of  the  sensibilities,  and  friendly  social  intercourse  — 
are  the  very  forms  of  life  which  are  capable  of  maintaining 
and  promoting  themselves.  "If,"  says  a  living  scientist, 
"we  make  a  curve  of  the  ascent  of  vertebrates,  ...  we 
find. that,  as  the  curve  ascends,  the  ordinates  of  marital 
affection,  parental  care,  mutual  aid,  and  gentler  emotions 
generally  are,  on  the  whole,  heightened  step  by  step.  That 
organisms  so  endowed  should  survive,  in  spite  of  the  ad- 
mitted egoistic  competition  that  is  rife,  is  nature's  sanction. 
The  earth  is  the  abode  of  the  strong,  but  it  is  also  the  home 
of  the  loving." l  And  that  which  is  true  of  the  develop- 
ment of  animal  life  at  large,  is  true  in  greater  measure  of 
the  development  of  human  life.  The  liberalization  and 
betterment  of  life  through  the  agencies  of  civilization  — 
the  diversification  and  refinement  of  interests,  the  organiza- 
tion and  solidification  of  society,  and  above  all  the  growth 
of  reason  —  is  at  the  same  time  the  guarantee  of  its  stability 
and  further  expansion. 

§  9.  It  is  customary  to  assume  that  if  man  cannot  be 
proved  to  have  possessed  the  world  from  the  beginning,  he 
The  Hazard  must  renounce  hope  of  possessing  it  in  the  end. 
of  Faith  Thus  Mr.  Russell  apparently  infers  that  if 

"Man  is  the  product  of  causes  which  had  no  prevision 
of  the  end  they  were  achieving,"  then  it  must  follow  that 
his  life  is  "brief  and  powerless,"  that  "on  him  and  all 
his  race  the  slow,  sure  doom  falls  pitiless  and  dark." 

1  J.  Arthur  Thomson  and  Patrick  Geddes:  "A  Biological  Approach," 
in  Ideals  of  Science  and  Faith,  edited  by  J.  E.  Hand,  pp.  69-70. 


346        PRESENT   PHILOSOPHICAL   TENDENCIES 

The  rigorous  and  truth-loving  mind  will  sacrifice  hope  on 
the  altar  of  science,  and  get  what  comfort  it  can  from  the 
emancipation  and  freedom  of  reason.  In  this  spirit  Darwin 
wrote:  "The  safest  conclusion  seems  to  me  that  the  whole 
subject  is  beyond  the  scope  of  man's  intellect;  but  man 
can  do  his  duty."  And  to-day,  in  the  name  of  the  logical 
method  and  the  realistic  metaphysics,  Mr.  Russell  concludes 
that  "for  man  ...  it  remains  only  to  cherish,  ere  yet  the 
blow  falls,  the  lofty  thoughts  that  ennoble  his  little  day; 
.  .  .  proudly  defiant  of  the  irresistible  forces  that  tolerate, 
for  a  moment,  his  knowledge  and  his  condemnation,  to 
sustain  alone,  a  weary  but  unyielding  Atlas,  the  world 
that  his  own  ideals  have  fashioned  despite  the  trampling 
march  of  unconscious  power." l 

That  such  a  philosophy  of  life  is  more  admirable  than 
superstition,  sentimentalism,  or  complacent  optimism,  few 
will  deny.  But  if  martyrdom  is  to  be  proclaimed  as  a 
gospel  for  men,  it  must  be  more  than  courageous;  it  must 
be  in  the  best  sense  wise  and  profitable.  The  conviction 
that  the  abandonment  of  religious  hope  is  the  supreme 
moral  of  science  and  philosophy,  must  rest  entirely  upon 
the  supposition  that  consciousness  is  impotent.  It  must 
be  supposed  that  interests  and  ideals  can  do  no  more  than 
create  "a  new  image  of  shining  gold,"  a  dream  of  better 
things,  with  which  for  the  moment  to  embroider  that 
"outward  rule  of  Fate,"  which  no  living  hand  can  stay.2 
But  if  ideals  work,  if  consciousness,  instead  of  creating  the 
mere  toys  and  playthings  of  the  imagination,  does  actu- 
ally make  things  good;  then  renunciation  is  as  fatuous  and 
unreasonable  as  it  is  gratuitous. 

It  is  true  that  the  claims  of  religious  optimism  cannot 
be  proved.  But  neither  can  it  be  proved  "  that  all  the 
labours  of  the  age,  all  the  devotion,  all  the  inspiration, 

1  B.  Russell:  "A  Free  Man's  Worship,"  in  Philosophical  Essays,  pp. 
60,  70;  Darwin:  Life  and  Letters,  Vol.  I,  pp.  276-277. 

1  Russell:  op.  cit.,  p.  66.  For  a  similar  view  of  the  idealizing  but 
impotent  function  of  consciousness,  cf.  G.  Santayana,  Life  of  Reason,  Vol. 
I  (Reason  in  Common  Sense),  Ch.  IX. 


REALISTIC   PHILOSOPHY   OF    LIFE  347 

all  the  noonday  brightness  of  human  genius,  are  destined 
to  extinction  in  the  vast  death  of  the  solar  system,  and 
that  the  whole  temple  of  Man's  achievement  must  inevi- 
tably be  buried  beneath  the  debris  of  a  universe  of  ruins."1 
To  pretend  to  speak  for  the  universe  in  terms  of  the\ 
narrow  and  abstract  predictions  of  astronomy,  is  to  betray-/ 
a  bias  of  mind  that  is  little  less  provincial  and  unimagi- 
native than  the  most  naive  anthropomorphism.  What 
that  residual  cosmos  which  looms  beyond  the  border  of 
knowledge  shall  in  time  bring  forth,  no  man  that  has  yet 
been  born  can  say.  That  it  may  overbalance  and  remake 
the  little  world  of  things  known,  and  falsify  every  present 
prophecy,  no  man  can  doubt.  It  is  as  consistent  with 
rigorous  thought  to  greet  it  as  a  promise  of  salvation,  as-"' 
to  dread  it  as  a  portent  of  doom.  And  if  it  be  granted 
that  in  either  case  it  is  a  question  of  over-belief,  of  the 
hazard  of  faith,  no  devoted  soul  can  hesitate.  Justified 
by  the  victories  already  won,  he  will  with  good  heart 
invite  his  will  to  the  completion  of  the  conquest. 

There  is  nothing  dispiriting  in  realism.  It  involves  the 
acceptance  of  the  given  situation  as  it  is,  with  no  attempt 
to  think  or  imagine  it  already  good.  But  it  involves  no 
less  the  conception  of  the  reality  and  power  of  life.  It 
is  opposed  equally  to  an  idealistic  anticipation  of  the 
victory  of  spirit,  and  to  a  naturalistic  confession  of  the^- 
impotence  of  spirit,  In  this  sense  all  bold  and  forward 
living  is  realistic.  It  involves  a  sense  for  things  as  they 
are,  an  ideal  of  things  as  they  should  be,  and  a  determina- 
tion that,  through  enlightened  action,  things  shall  in  time 
come  to  be  what  they  should  be. 

1  Russell:  op.  cit.,  pp.  60-61. 


APPENDIX 

THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF   WILLIAM  JAMES » 
I.  PHILOSOPHY  OF  MIND 

§i.  A  philosophy  so  complete  and  so  significant  as  that  of 
William  James,  touching,  as  it  does,  every  traditional  problem, 

and  expressing  through  the  medium  of  personal 
the  Problem  genius  the  characteristic  tendencies  of  an  epoch, 
of  Mind  in  cannot  be  hastily  estimated.  There  is  no  glory  to 
0^°  hyS  ?hl1  ke  won  by  pressing  the  attack  upon  its  unguarded 

defences;  while  solemn  verdicts,  whether  of  com- 
mendation or  censure,  would  surely  prove  premature  and  inju- 
dicious. But  there  is  perhaps  one  service  to  be  rendered  to 
James  and  to  philosophy  for  which  this  is  the  most  suitable 
time,  the  service,  namely,  of  brief  and  proportionate  exposi- 
tion. Every  philosophical  system  suffers  from  accidental  empha- 
sis, due  to  the  temporal  order  of  production  and  to  the  exigencies 
of  controversy.  Towards  the  close  of  his  life,  James  himself  felt 
the  need  of  assembling  his  philosophy,  and  of  giving  it  unity  and 
balance.  It  was  truly  one  philosophy,  one  system  of  thought, 
but  its  total  structure  and  contour  had  never  been  made  explicit. 
That  James  should  not  have  lived  to  do  this  work  himself  is 
an  absolute  loss  to  mankind,  for  which  no  efforts  of  mine  can  in 
the  least  compensate.2  But  I  should  like  to  make  a  first  rude 
sketch,  which  may,  I  hope,  despite  its  flatness  and  its  bad  draw- 
ing, at  least  suggest  the  form  of  the  whole  and  the  proper 
emphasis  of  the  parts. 

1  Reprinted  from  the  Philosophical  Review,  Vol.  XX,  1911;  and  from  The 
Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  Vol.  XIX,  1910. 

1  James  left  an  unfinished  "Introduction  to  Philosophy,"  in  which  he 
had  made  a  beginning  of  a  systematic  restatement  of  his  thought;  but 
owing  to  its  incompleteness  it  does  not,  as  it  stands,  afford  the  reader  the 
total  view  which  was  in  the  author's  mind  as  he  composed  it.  It  has  been 
published  since  his  death  under  the  title,  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy. 
349 


350  APPENDIX 

If  one  could  read  James's  writings  in  a  day,  and  forget  the 
order  of  their  publication,  one  would,  I  think,  find  that  they 
treated  of  three  great  topics — the  nature  of  the  human  mind, 
the  structure  and  criteria  of  knowledge,  and  the  grounds  of 
religious  belief.  Were  one  then  to  take  into  consideration  the 
writer's  development,  together  with  his  interests  and  his  apti- 
tudes, one  would  be  brought  to  see  that  the  first  of  these  topics 
was  original  and  fundamental.  James's  philosophy  was  a  study 
of  man,  or  of  life.  The  biological  and  medical  sciences,  psychol- 
ogy, philosophy  proper,  and  religion,  were  not  for  him  so  many 
independent  disciplines,  from  which  he  chose  now  one  and  now 
another  owing  to  versatility  or  caprice;  but  so  many  sources  of 
light  concerning  human  nature.  So  that  while  one  has  diffi- 
culty in  classifying  him  within  a  curriculum  or  hierarchy  of  the 
sciences,  since  he  ignored  such  distinctions  and  even  visited  the 
intellectual  under-world  when  it  suited  his  purpose,  his  mind 
was  none  the  less  steadily  focussed  on  its  object.  His  knowledge 
was  on  the  one  hand  as  unified,  and  on  the  other  hand  as  rich 
and  diversified,  as  its  subject-matter.  In  the  summary  which 
follows  I  shall  first  give  an  account  of  his  general  views  of  the 
human  mind;  after  which  I  shall  discuss  his  view  of  man's 
great  enterprises,  knowledge,  and  religion. 

§2.  In  one  of  his  earliest  published  articles,  on  "Spencer's 
Definition  of  Mind," l  James  adopts  a  standpoint  which  he 
Mind  as  In-  never  leaves.  His  object  is  man  the  organism,  sav- 
terested  and  ing  himself  and  asserting  his  interests  within  the 
Selective  natural  environment.  These  interests,  the  irreducible 
"  teleological  factor,"  must  be  the  centre  and  point  of  reference 
in  any  account  of  mind.  The  defect  in  Spencer's  view  of  mind 
as  correspondence  of  " inner"  and  "outer"  relations,  lies  in  its 
failing  to  recognize  that  such  correspondence  is  relative  to  the 
organism's  interests.  "So  that  the  Spencerian  formula,  to 
mean  anything  definite  at  all,  must,  at  least,  be  re-written  as 
follows:  'Right  or  intelligent  mental  action  consists  in  the 
establishment,  corresponding  to  outward  relations,  of  such 
inward  relations  and  reactions  as  will  favor  the  survival  of  the 
thinker,  or,  at  least,  his  physical  well-being.' "  *  The  mind  is 
not  a  "mirror"  which  passively  reflects  what  it  chances  to  come 

1  The  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,  Vol.  XII,  Jan.,  1878. 
*  Loc.  cit.,  p.  $. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  351 

upon.  It  initiates  and  tries;  and  its  correspondence  with  the 
"outer  world"  means  that  its  effort  successfully  meets  the  en- 
vironment in  behalf  of  the  organic  interest  from  which  it  sprang. 
The  mind,  like  an  antenna,  feels  the  way  for  the  organism.  It 
gropes  about,  advances  and  recoils,  making  many  random 
efforts  and  many  failures;  but  is  always  urged  into  taking  the 
initiative  by  the  pressure  of  interest,  and  doomed  to  success  or 
failure  in  some  hour  of  trial  when  it  meets  and  engages  the 
environment.  Such  is  mind,  and  such,  according  to  James, 
are  all  its  operations.  These  characters,  interest,  activity, 
trial,  success,  and  failure,  are  its  generic  characters  when  it  is 
observed  concretely;  and  they  are  the  characters  which  should 
take  precedence  of  all  others  in  the  description  of  every  special 
undertaking  of  mind,  such  as  knowing,  truth-getting,  and 
believing. 

The  action  of  the  mind  is  not,  however,  creative.  Its  ideas 
are  not  of  its  own  making,  but  rather  of  its  own  choosing  At 
every  stage  of  its  development,  on  every  level  ofTSrnplexity, 
the  mind  is  essentially  a  selective  agency,  "a  theatre  of  simul- 
taneous possibilities."  l  The  sense-organs  select  from  among 
simultaneous  stimuli;  attention  is  selective  from  among  sensa- 
tions; morality  is  selective  from  among  interests.  And  above 
all,  thought  is  selective.  The  unity  and  discreteness  of  "  things" 
first  arises  from  interest  in  some  special  group  of  qualities,  and 
from  among  the  group  the  mind  then  selects  some  to  represent  it 
most  truly  as  its  "essential"  characters.  Reasoning  is  not  the 
mere  mechanism  of  association.  Garrulousness  in  which  the 
course  of  ideas  is  allowed  to  proceed  as  it  will,  is  unreason,  a 
symptom  of  mental  decay.  To  reason  is  to  guide  the  course  of 
ideas,  through  discriminating  and  accentuating  those  whose 
associates  are  to  the  point.  Human  sagacity  and  genius,  as 
well  as  the  whole  overwhelming  superiority  of  man  to  brute,  are 
to  be  attributed  to  a  capacity  for  extracting  the  right  characters 
from  the  undifferentiated  chaos  of  primeval  experience;  the 
right  characters  being  those  which  are  germane  to  the  matter 
in  hand,  or  those  which  enable  the  mind  to  pass  to  similars  over 
a  bridge  of  identities.1 

1  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  p.  288. 

«  Op.  cit.,  Ch.  V,  IX,  XIII,  XIV,  XXII.  Cf.  especially,  Vol.  I,  pp . 
284-290;  Vol.  II,  pp.  329-366. 


35*  APPENDIX 

§3.  Let  us  now  look  at  mind  from  a  somewhat  different  angle. 
If  its  operations  are  selective  rather  than  creative  it  follows  that 
The  Relational  **  derives  its  content  from  its  environment,  and 
or  Functional  adds  nothing  to  that  content  save  the  circumstance 
Theory  of  of  its  selection.  If  the  term  'consciousness'  be 
used  to  designate  the  mind's  content,  that  manifold, 
namely,  which  can  be  held  in  view  and  examined  by  introspec- 
tion, then  consciousness  is  not  a  distinct  substance,  or  even  a 
distinct  quality;  but  a  grouping,  exclusive  and  inclusive,  of 
characters  borrowed  from  the  environment.  James  first  offered 
this  account  of  the  matter  in  the  article  entitled,  "Does  Con- 
sciousness Exist?"  published  in  1904.  But  he  then  wrote: 
"For  twenty  years  past  I  have  mistrusted  'consciousness'  as 
an  entity;  for  seven  or  eight  years  past  I  have  suggested  its 
non-existence  to  my  students."1  This  theory  is  therefore 
both  closely  related  to  his  other  theories,  and  also  of  long 
standing. 

In  suggesting  the  non-existence  of  consciousness,  James 
meant,  of  course,  to  prepare  the  way  for  an  account  of  its  true 
character.  This  turn  of  thought  may  perhaps  be  paraphrased 
as  follows.  If  by  a  thing's  existence  you  mean  its  separate 
existence,  its  existence  as  wholly  other  than,  or  outside  of,  other 
things,  as  one  planet  exists  outside  another,  then  consciousness 
does  not  exist.  For  consciousness  differs  from  other  things  as 
one  grouping  differs  from  another  grouping  of  the  same  terms; 
as,  for  example,  the  Republican  party  differs  from  the  American 
people.  But  this  is  its  true  character,  and  in  this  sense  it  exists. 
One  is  led  to  this  conclusion  if  one  resolutely  refuses  to  yield  to 
the  spell  of  words.  What  do  we  find  when  we  explore  that 
quarter  to  which  the  word  '  consciousness  '  directs  us?  We  find 
at  first  glance  some  particular  character,  such  as  blue;  and  at 
second  glance  another  particular  character,  such  as  roundness. 
Which  of  these  is  consciousness?  Evidently  neither.  For  there 
is  no  discoverable  difference  between  these  characters,  thus 
severally  regarded,  and  certain  parts  of  nature.  Furthermore, 
there  is  no  discoverable  community  of  nature  among  these 
characters  themselves.  But  continue  the  investigation  as  long 
as  you  please,  and  you  simply  add  content  to  content,  without 

1  Journal  of  Phil.,  Psych.,  and  Sc.  Methods,  Vol.  I,  1904,  p.  477.  The 
article  has  been  reprinted  in  Essays  in  Radical  Empiricism,  I. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  353 

finding  either  any  class  of  elements  that  belong  exclusively  to 
consciousness,  or  any  conscious  "menstruum"  in  which  the  ele- 
ments of  content  are  suspended.  The  solution  of  the  riddle  lies 
in  the  fact  that  one  term  may  be  called  by  several  names  corre- 
sponding to  the  several  relationships  into  which  it  enters.  It  is 
necessary  only  to  admit  that  "every  smallest  bit  of  experience 
is  a  multum  in  parvo  plurally  related,  that  each  relation  is  one 
aspect,  character,  or  function,  way  of  its  being  taken,  or  way  of 
its  taking  something  else;  and  that  a  bit  of  reality  when  actively 
engaged  in  one  of  these  relations  is  not  by  that  very  fact  engaged 
in  all  the  other  relations  simultaneously.  The  relations  are  not 
all  what  the  French  call  solidaires  with  one  another.  Without 
losing  its  identity  a  thing  can  either  take  up  or  drop  another 
thing,  like  the  log  ...  which  by  taking  up  new  carriers  and 
dropping  old  ones  can  travel  anywhere  with  a  light  escort."  * 

I  have  quoted  this  passage  in  full  because  of  its  far-reaching 
importance.  But  we  have  to  do  here  only  with  the  application 
to  the  question  of  consciousness.  The  elements  or  terms  which 
enter  into  consciousness  and  become  its  content  may  now 
be  regarded  as  the  same  elements  which,  in  so  far  as  otherwise 
related,  compose  physical  nature.  The  elements  themselves, 
the  "materia  prima"  or  "stuff  of  pure  experience,"  are  neither 
psychical  nor  physical.1  A  certain  spatial  and  dynamic  system 
of  such  elements  constitutes  physical  nature;  taken  in  other 
relations  they  constitute  "ideal"  systems,  such  as  logic  and 
mathematics;  while  in  still  another  grouping,  and  in  a  specific 
functional  relation,  they  make  up  that  process  of  reflective 
thought  which  is  the  subject  under  discussion  in  the  author's 
theory  of  ideas  and  of  truth.  The  grouping  or  pattern  which 
is  most  characteristic  of  the  individual  consciousness  as  such, 
is  best  described  in  connection  with  "the  experience  of  activity." 

But  before  turning  to  this  topic  it  is  important  to  call  atten- 
tion to  a  further  corollary  which  is  capable  of  a  very  wide  appli- 
cation. The  common  or  '  neutral '  elements  of  pure  experience 
serve  not  only  to  connect  consciousness  with  the  various  objec- 
tive orders  of  being,  but  also  to  connect  different  units  of 
consciousness  with  another.  Two  or  more  minds  become 

1  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  322 — 323.  Cf.  Essays  in  Radical  Empiricism, 
p.  140. 

•  Cf.  below,  pp.  364-365. 


354  APPENDIX 

co-terminous  and  commutable  through  containing  the  same 
elements.  We  can  thus  understand  "  how  two  minds  can  know 
one  thing."1  In  precisely  the  same  way  the  same  mind  may 
know  the  same  thing  at  different  times.  The  different  pulses 
of  one  consciousness  may  thus  overlap  and  interpenetrate. 
And  where  these  pulses  are  successive,  the  persistence  of  these 
common  factors,  marginal  in  one  and  focal  in  the  next,  gives 
to  consciousness  its  peculiar  connectedness  and  continuity. 
There  is  no  need,  therefore,  of  a  synthesis  ab  extra;  there  is 
sameness  and  permanence  and  universality  within  the  content 
itself.  Finally,  just  as  several  individual  minds,  and  the  sev- 
eral moments  of  one  individual  mind,  are  "co-conscious,"  so 
there  is  no  reason  why  human  minds  should  not  be  "con- 
fluent in  a  higher  consciousness."  2 

§  4.  A  certain  grouping  of  the  elements  of  experience,  a  group- 
ing in  which  activity  and  affectional  states  are  the  most  marked 
The  Experi-  characteristics,  constitutes  "  the  individualized 
ence  of  self."  "Simon  pure  activity,"  or  "activity  an 

Activity  sick,"  is  a  fictitious  entity.   But  we  are  not  on  that 

account  to  banish  the  word  'activity  '  from  our  philosophical 
vocabulary,  since  there  is  a  specific  experience-complex  for 
which  it  may  be  rightly  and  profitably  used.  "If  the  word 
have  any  meaning  it  must  denote  what  there  is  found. 
.  .  .  The  experiencer  of  such  a  situation  possesses  all  that  the 
idea  contains.  He  feels  the  tendency,  the  obstacle,  the  will, 
the  strain,  the  triumph,  or  the  passive  giving  up,  just  as  he  feels 
the  time,  the  space,  the  swiftness  or  intensity,  the  movement, 
the  weight  and  color,  the  pain  and  pleasure,  the  complexity,  or 
whatever  remaining  factors  the  situation  may  involve." 3 
This  specific  train  or  pattern  of  experiences  being  taken  to  con- 
stitute activity,  it  will  constitute  "my  "  activity  in  so  far  as  it 
is  accompanied  by  certain  affectional  states;  in  other  words,  in 
so  far  as  it  centres  in  certain  experiences  of  my  own  body. 
For  affectional  states  are  quasi-bodily.  They  do  not  belong 

1  Op.  dt.,pp.  123  sq. 

2  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.   290,  cf.  Lecture  VII,  passim.    For  the  de- 
velopment of  James's  view  concerning  the  "  compounding  of  consciousness," 
cf.  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  pp.  160,  161;  "The  Knowing  of  Things 
Together,"  Psych.  Rev.,  Vol.  II,  1895;   Pluralistic  Universe,  Lecture  V. 

3  "The  Experience  of  Activity,"  in  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  380,  376- 
377- 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES      355 

exclusively  either  to  the  mental  or  to  the  physical  order.  That 
which  is  attractive  or  repugnant  stirs  the  body  as  well  as  the 
mind.  "  The  '  interesting '  aspects  of  things  "  rule  the  consecution 
of  our  several  conscious  streams;  but  they  are  "not  wholly  inert 
physically,  though  they  be  active  only  in  those  small  corners 
of  physical  nature  which  our  bodies  occupy."  1  The  individual- 
ized self  is  thus  a  peculiar  assemblage  or  field  of  elements,  which 
"comes  at  all  times  with  our  body  as  its  centre,  centre  of  vision, 
centre  of  action,  centre  of  interest.  .  .  .  The  body  is  the  storm 
centre,  the  origin  of  coordinates,  the  constant  place  of  stress  in 
all  that  experience-train.  Everything  circles  round  it,  and  is 
felt  from  its  point  of  view.  The  word  'I,'  then,  is  primarily  a 
noun  of  position,  just  like  'this'  and  'here.'  Activities  attached 
to  'this'  position  have  prerogative  emphasis.  .  .  .  The  'my'  of 
them  is  the  emphasis,  the  feeling  of  perspective-interest  in  which 
they  are  dyed."  * 

Precisely  as  there  is  no  consciousness  an  sich,  and  no  ac- 
tivity an  sick,  so  there  is  no  mental  power  or  "effectuation"  an 
sich.  The  causality  of  mind  lies  in  the  drama,  train,  conjunc- 
tion, or  series,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  mind-complex.  "Sustain- 
ing, persevering,  striving,  paying  with  effort  as  we  go,  hanging 
on,  and  finally  achieving  our  intention  —  this  is  action,  this  is 
effectuation  in  the  only  shape  in  which,  by  a  pure  experience- 
philosophy,  the  whereabouts  of  it  anywhere  can  be  discussed. 
.  .  .  Real  effectual  causation  ...  is  just  that  kind  of  con- 
junction which  our  own  activity-series  reveal."  *  We  meet  here 
with  a  type  of  process  that  is  sui  generis.  Whether  human  action 
is  determined  primarily  by  this  process,  or  by  the  elementary 
processes  of  the  nerve-cells,  James  does  not  attempt  to  decide. 
It  is  essentially  a  question  between  the  activities  of  longer 
and  of  shorter  span;  "naively,  we  believe,  and  humanly  and 
dramatically  we  like  to  believe,"  that  the  two  are  at  work  in 
life  together.* 

If  we  assemble  these  various  aspects  of  mind,  we  can  picture 
it  in  its  concrete  wholeness.  The  organism  operates  interestedly 

1  "The  Place  of  Affectional  Facts  in  a  World  of  Pure  Experience," 
Essays  on  Radical  Empiricism,  pp.  150-151,  and  passim. 

1  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  380,  note. 

1  Ibid.,  pp.  390,  392.  For  the  bearing  of  this  on  the  question  of  freedom, 
see  below,  p.  373. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  387- 


356  APPENDIX 

and  selectively  within  its  natural  environment;  and  the  mani- 
fold of  elements  thus  selected  compose  the  mind's  content. 
But  this  content,  when  viewed  by  itself,  exhibits  certain  charac- 
teristic groupings,  patterns,  and  conjunctions.  Of  these  the 
knowledge  process  is  the  most  striking  But  as  the  body  is  the 
original  instrument  of  selection  and  the  source  of  individual 
bias,  so  bodily  states  and  bodily  orientation  will  be  the  nucleus 
of  each  individual  field  of  content. 

II.  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

§5.  To  understand  the  originality  and  value  of  James's 
contributions  to  this  subject,  it  is  indispensable  that  one  should 

see  his  problem.  One  must  respect  the  difficulty 
of  Cognition0  before  one  can  appreciate  his  solution  of  it.  James's 

problem  can  perhaps  be  formulated  as  follows: 
How  can  idea  and  object  be  two,  and  yet  one  be  knowledge  of  the 
other,  and  both  fall  within  the  same  individual  conscious  field? 
And  this  problem  James  proposes  to  solve  empirically,  that  is, 
by  an  examination  of  cognition  in  the  concrete.  Just  what  is  it 
that  takes  place,  just  what  is  found,  when  I  have  an  idea  of  an 
object? 

Although  James's  discussions  of  knowledge  relate  mainly  to 
this  dual  or  mediated  type,  to  knowledge  about  the  thing  b, 
which  I  have  by  virtue  of  the  idea  a,  he  does  not  regard  this  as 
the  only  type  or  as  the  standard  type.  "  Knowledge  about"  is  a 
derivative  of  "direct"  knowledge,  or  "knowledge  of  acquaint- 
ance," and  is  never  more  than  a  provisional  substitute  for  it. 
Representation  is  cognitive  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  virtual 
presentation.  In  direct  knowledge,  or  knowledge  of  acquaint- 
ance, "any  one  and  the  same  that  in  experience  must  figure 
alternately  as  a  thing  known  and  as  a  knowledge  of  the  thing,  by 
reason  of  two  divergent  kinds  of  context  into  which,  in  the 
general  course  of  experience,  it  gets  woven."  l  In  knowledge  of 
this  type,  in  other  words,  the  thing  itself  is  acted  on  and  felt 
about  in  the  manner  characteristic  of  an  individual  conscious 
field.  The  most  notable  case  of  this  is  sense-perception.  In  so 
far  as  there  is  here  any  difference  between  the  knowing  and 

1  "Essence  of  Humanism,"  in  The  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.   127.    Cf. 
Passim,  and  "Function  of  Cognition,"  ibid.,  pp.  1-42. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  357 

the  known,  the  knowing  is  simply  the  context,  the  company  into 
which  the  thing  known  is  received.  And  the  individual  knower 
will  be  that  nuclear  bodily  complex  which  has  already  been 
described.  The  function  of  such  knowledge  is  evidently  to  get 
things  thus  directly  acted  on,  or  thus  directly  introduced  into 
life. 

But,  humanly  speaking,  if  the  range  of  life  is  not  to  be  nar- 
rowly circumscribed,  it  is  necessary  that  most  things  should 
appear  in  it  vicariously,  that  is,  represented  by  what  is  known 
"about"  them.  "The  towering  importance  for  human  life  of 
this  kind  of  knowing  lies  in  the  fact  that  an  experience  that 
knows  another  can  figure  as  its  representative,  not  in  any  quasi- 
miraculous  'epistemological'  sense,  but  in  the  definite  practical 
sense  of  being  its  substitute  in  various  operations."  1  Thus  the 
function  of  "knowledge  about"  is  to  provide  substitutes  for 
things  which  it  is  practically  impossible  to  know  directly,  so  that 
the  original  function  of  knowledge  may  be  widely  extended.  It  is 
only  a  special  case  of  that  which  is  characteristic  of  all  organized 
life  —  namely,  the  broadening  of  its  scope  by  delegation  and 
indirection.  And  we  are  thus  brought  to  the  consideration  of  a 
narrow  and  definite  problem.  When  may  one  item  be,  for  cog- 
nitive purposes,  substituted  for  another?  That  which  may  thus  be 
substituted  is  "knowledge  about,"  or  "idea  of,"  the  thing  for 
which  it  is  so  substituted;  and  the  thing  for  which  the  substitu- 
tion is  made  is  the  object.  So  that  our  question  is  equivalent 
to  the  traditional  question,  'What  is  the  relation  between  an 
idea  and  its  object? '  But  it  is  important  to  bear  in  mind  that 
James's  question  cannot  be  answered  simply  by  saying  that  idea 
and  object  are  identical.  That  in  many  cases  they  are  identical, 
and  that  in  all  cases  they  are  virtually  identical,  he  does  not 
deny.  But  he  asks  particularly  about  that  respect  in  which  they 
are  not  identical;  where  there  is  an  actual  otherness  of  content, 
or  an  actual  temporal  progression  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
And  it  must  also  be  remembered  also  that  James  does  not  per- 
mit himself  to  deal  with  this  question  on  other  than  empirical 
grounds;  in  other  words,  he  assumes  that  all  the  terms  referred 
to  must  be  such  as  can  be  brought  together  within  one  field  of 
consciousness.1  The  older  dualism,  in  which  the  something 

1  Essays  in  Radical  Empiricism,  p.  60. 

1  For  the  meaning  of  "empiricism,"  see  below,  pp.  363-366. 


358  APPENDIX 

'  inside '  represents  something  '  outside '  every  possible  exten- 
sion of  the  individual's  consciousness,  is  regarded  as  obsolete.1 

The  relation  characteristic  of  an  idea  and  its  object  can  be 
analyzed  into  two  factors,  intention  and  agreement.2  In  the  first 
place,  the  idea  must  somehow  "mean"  its  object,  that  is,  desig- 
nate which  thing  is  its  object.  And  intention  is  prior  to  agree- 
ment. It  is  not  sufficient  that  an  idea  should  simply  agree  with 
something;  it  must  agree  with  Us  object;  and  until  its  object  has 
been  identified,  no  test  of  agreement  can  be  applied.  "It  is  not 
by  dint  of  discovering  which  reality  a  feeling  'resembles'  that 
we  find  out  which  reality  it  means.  We  become  first  aware  of 
which  one  it  means,  and  then  we  suppose  that  to  be  the  one  it 
resembles."  3  But  intention  is  essentially  a  practical  matter. 
What  one  intends  is  like  one's  goal  or  one's  destination,  in  being 
what  one's  actions  converge  on  or  towards.  And  the  idea  owes 
its  existence,  as  such,  to  an  intention  or  plan  of  action  of  which 
the  'intended'  is  the  terminus.  Intention  is,  of  course,  often 
equivocal;  but  the  intention  is  revealed,  and  becomes  less  and 
less  equivocal  as  the  plan  of  action  unfolds.  It  is  this  which 
accounts  for  the  superiority  of  gesture  over  words.  If  one  can 
hold  up  the  object,  lay  one's  hand  on  it,  or  even  point  to  it,  its 
identity  becomes  unmistakable.4  So  we  must  conclude  that 
where  the  action  on  the  object  is  not  completed,  the  object  is 
intended  hi  so  far  as  there  is  an  incipient  train  of  action  which, 
if  completed,  would  terminate  in  that  thing.  I  may  here  and 
now  have  an  idea  of  "  the  tigers  in  India,"  that  is,  mean,  intend, 
or  refer  to  them,  inasmuch  as  what  is  in  my  mind  is  so  connected 
circumstantially  with  the  actual  India  and  its  tigers,  that  if  I 
were  to  follow  it  up  I  should  be  brought  face  to  face  with  them.6 
In  other  words,  to  have  an  idea  of  a  thing  is  to  have  access  to 
it,  even  when  it  is  not  present. 

But  an  idea  must  not  only  intend  its  object;  it  must  also,  in 
some  sense,  "agree"  with  it.  And  here  again  we  find  that  the 
essential  thing  is  practical  connection;  for  identity,  or  even  simi- 
larity, is  evidently  not  necessary.  "We  are  universally  held 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  pp.  126-127. 

*  "Function  of  Cognition,"  op.  cit.,  passim,  and  especially  pp.  28-32. 
»  Ibid.,  p.  25. 

4  Cf.  ibid.,  pp.  25,  35;  also  "Meaning  of  the  Word  Truth,"  op.  cit., 

P-  217- 

•  Op.  cit.,  pp.  43-50. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  359 

both  to  intend,  to  speak  of,  and  to  reach  conclusions  about  — 
to  know,  in  short  —  particular  realities,  without  having  in  our 
subjective  consciousness  any  mind-stuff  that  resembles  them 
even  in  a  remote  degree.  We  are  instructed  about  them  by 
language  which  awakens  no  consciousness  beyond  its  sound;  and 
we  know  which  realities  they  are  by  the  faintest  and  most  frag- 
mentary glimpse  of  some  remote  context  that  they  may  have, 
and  by  no  direct  imagination  of  themselves."  l  Since  it  is  not 
always  necessary  that  the  idea  should  resemble  its  object,  we 
must  conclude  that  the  minimum  agreement  which  is  required 
of  all  ideas  cannot  be  resemblance.  And  we  shall  understand 
that  minimum  agreement  best  where  it  is  barest,  where  it  is  not 
complicated  by  the  accident  of  agreement.  The  best  example, 
then,  will  be  the  agreement  of  words  with  their  objects.  Now  a 
word  agrees  with  its  intended  object  inasmuch  as  by  an  estab- 
lished convention  it  leads  to  that  object,  or  enables  one  to  find  it. 
And  what  is  true  of  single  words  will  also  be  true  of  combina- 
tions of  words;  they  will  "agree,"  when  they  are  so  connected 
with  a  combination  of  things  as  to  enable  one  to  reverse  the 
verbalizing  operation  and  substitute  that  combination  of  things 
for  them.  But  since  it  is  possible  that  my  idea  should  not 
prepare  me  for  what  it  intends,  it  is  evident  that  we  are  already 
within  the  domain  of  truth  and  error;  agreement  being  the 
same  thing  as  truth,  and  disagreement  the  same  thing  as  error. 
And  this  is  a  matter  for  special  and  detailed  examination. 

Before  leaving  the  present  topic,  however,  it  is  worth  while 
once  more  to  point  out  that  for  James  all  knowledge  is  virtually 
direct  or  presentative.  First,  the  safest  and  surest  of  our  every- 
day knowledge  is  sense-perception.  Second,  while  it  is  not 
necessary  that  the  idea  should  resemble  its  object,  the  idea  will 
ordinarily  be  some  fragment  of  the  object,  abstracted  and  made 
to  serve  for  the  whole.  And  in  so  far  as  this  is  the  case  the  idea 
and  its  object  are  identical.  Third,  even  mediated  knowledge 
is  completed  only  when  by  means  of  it  the  object  is  brought 
directly  into  the  mind.  So  that  the  best  idea  would  be  that 
which  would  "lead  to  an  actual  merging  of  ourselves  with  the 
object,  to  an  utter  mutual  confluence  and  identification."  2  In 
other  words,  knowledge,  generally  speaking,  is  the  entrance  of 

1  "Function  of  Cognition,"  op.  cit.,  pp.  30-31. 
1  "A  Word  More  about  Truth,"  op.  cit.,  p.  156. 


360  APPENDIX 

things  belonging  otherwise  to  nature  or  some  ideal  order,  into 
the  context  of  the  individual  life.  Mediated  knowledge,  in 
which  there  is  a  difference  and  an  extrinsic  connection  between 
the  idea  and  its  object,  is  incidental  to  knowledge  thus  defined; 
a  means,  simply,  of  extending  its  scope  by  the  method  of  sub- 
stitution. 

§  6.  The  function  of  knowledge  reveals  the  locus  of  the  prob- 
lem of  truth.  Truth  is  something  which  happens  to  ideas  owing 
The  Pragma-  to  their  relation  to  their  objects,  that  is,  to  the 
tic  Nature  of  things  which  they  are  'about.'  Ideas  are  true 
Truth  <Q£,  tkejr  objects,  it  being  assumed  that  the  ob- 

jects are  both  different  from  the  beliefs  and  intended  by  them. 
The  pragmatic  theory  of  truth  means  nothing  except  so  far  as 
applied  to  this  particular  situation.  If  the  specific  complexity 
of  the  situation  be  not  taken  account  of,  then  the  theory  becomes 
labored  and  meaningless.  James  convicts  most  of  the  objectors 
to  pragmatism  of  overlooking,  or  over-simplifying,  this  problem. 
If  one  identifies  truth  with  fact,  one  is  simply  ignoring  James's 
question  as  to  how  one  fact  can  be  true  of  another,  as  is  supposed 
to  be  the  case  in  all  mediated  knowledge.  If  one  says  that  true 
beliefs  are  beliefs  in  true  propositions,  truth  being  an  indefinable 
property  of  some  propositions,  one  is  evading  the  troublesome 
question  as  to  what  is  meant  by  belief  in;  and  one  is  neglecting 
the  fact  that  in  nearly  all  actual  knowledge  the  content  of  the 
believing  state,  or  what  is  believed,  differs  from  that  which  it  is 
believed  about.  So  that  James's  question  will  simply  reappear 
as  the  question  how  a  true  belief  about  a  '  true  proposition '  (in 
the  opponent's  sense)  differs  from  a  false  belief  about  that  same 
proposition.  Or,  finally,  if  one  defines  truth  in  terms  of  a 
hypothetical  omniscience,  one  transfers  the  problem  to  a  domain 
where  its  empirical  examination  is  impossible,  and  meanwhile 
leaves  untouched  the  question  of  that  human  truth  that  can  be 
empirically  examined,  including  the  truth  of  the  hypothesis  of 
omniscience.1 

Let  us,  then,  resort  to  that  corner  of  the  world  to  which  James's 
question  invites  attention.  We  find,  on  the  one  hand,  some- 
thing belonging,  let  us  say,  to  the  realm  of  physical  nature.  We 

1  The  volume  entitled  The  Meaning  of  Truth  is  devoted  almost  entirely 
to  the  removal  of  these  misapprehensions.  Cf.  especially  the  Preface,  and 
Nos.  VI,  VIII,  IX,  and  XIV. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  361 

find,  on  the  other  hand,  some  particular  individual's  particular 
belief,  idea,  or  statement  with  reference  to  that  thing.  What, 
then,  do  we  find  to  be  characteristic  of  the  idea  in  so  far  as  true 
of  the  thing?  We  are  not  asking  for  a  recipe  for  the  making  of 
truth;  still  less  for  an  infallible  recipe.  We  desire  only  to  under- 
stand "what  the  word  'true'  means,  as  applied  to  a  statement"; 
"  what  truth  actually  consists  of";  "  the  relation  to  its  object  that 
makes  an  idea  true  in  any  given  instance."  l  We  shall  be  faith- 
ful to  James's  meaning  if  we  articulate  the  situation  expressly. 
Let  b  represent  a  certain  individual  thing,  assumed  to  exist; 
and  let  a  represent  somebody's  idea  of  b,  also  assumed  to  exist. 
a  may  be  similar  to  b,  or  dissimilar;  but  in  any  case,  it  must 
'intend'  b,  in  the  manner  already  defined.  It  should  also  be 
remarked  that  a  and  b  belong  to  one  manifold  of  experience,  in 
the  sense  that  the  same  individual  mind  may  proceed  from  the 
one  to  the  other.  Our  question,  then,  is  this:  When  is  a  true 
of  b?  The  pragmatist  answer  is  as  follows : 2  a  owes  its  existence 
as  an  idea  to  some  interest;  if  there  were  no  interested  minds  at 
work  in  the  world,  then  the  world  would  consist  only  of  6's.» 
Ideas,  whether  they  be  mere  conventional  signs  for  things  or 
selected  aspects  of  things,  arise  only  because  of  some  practical 
motive.  Furthermore,  the  relation  of  intention  which  connects 
an  idea  with  some  thing  and  makes  that  thing  'its  object,  is  due 
to  the  same  interest  or  motive  which  selected  the  idea.4  Finally, 
then,  a  is  true  of  b,  when  this  interest  which  selected  a  and  related 
it  to  b,  is  satisfied.  In  short,  a  is  true  of  b,  when  it  is  a  successful 
ideating  of  6.* 

We  shall  gain  in  clearness  and  explicitness  if  we  now  dis- 
tinguish the  cases  of  applied  and  theoretical  truth.  We  may 
suppose  a  to  arise,  first,  as  a  mode  of  conceiving  b  for  some  use 
to  which  b  is  to  be  put.  Then,  when  by  virtue  of  the  conception 
a  I  am  enabled  to  handle  or  control  b,  and  reach  the  desired 

1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  221,  234,  235. 

*  This  is  not  a  close  paraphrase  of  any  portion  of  the  text,  but  is  arrived 
at  by  using  the  polemical  statement  in  The  Meaning  of  Truth  to  give  greater 
precision  to  the  constructive  statement  in  Lect.  VI  of  Pragmatism. 

1  See  above,  pp.  350-351. 
4  See  above,  p.  358. 

*  This  success  may  be  actual  or  potential.     What  James  means  by 
"  potential  "  is  clearly  stated  in  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  93.     But  in  any  case 
truth  cannot  be  defined  without  reference  to  the  success. 


362  APPENDIX 

end  by  so  doing,  I  have  a  true  idea  of  a,  in  the  applied  sense. 
This  kind  of  truth  is  much  the  more  common.  If  we  include 
such  knowledge  as  animals  possess,  and  all  of  that  human  com- 
petence and  skill  which  is  not  exactly  formulated  —  all  of  the 
art  which  is  not  science  —  it  is  evident  that  in  bulk  it  far 
exceeds  the  knowledge  which  is  immediately  related  to  the 
theoretical  motive. 

But  pragmatism  is  not  intended  as  a  disparagement  of  theory. 
James  naturally  resents  the  description  of  it  "as  a  character- 
istically American  movement,  a  sort  of  bobtailed  scheme  of 
thought,  excellently  fitted  for  the  man  on  the  street,  who 
naturally  hates  theory  and  wants  cash  returns  immediately."  1 
Indeed,  owing  to  the  emphasis  given  the  matter  by  the  turn 
of  controversy,  the  pragmatist  writers  have  devoted  a  some- 
what disproportionate  amount  of  space  to  the  discussion 
of  theoretical  truth.  That  the  theoretical  process  is  itself  in- 
terested in  its  own  way,  that  it  has  its  characteristic  motive 
and  its  characteristic  successes  and  failures,  is  a  fact  that  no 
one  has  ever  questioned.  And  'theoretical  truth,'  so-called,  is 
its  success.  An  idea  is  true  theoretically,  when  it  works  for 
the  theoretical  purpose.  It  remains  only  to  discover  what 
that  purpose  may  be.  What,  then,  is  the  theoretical  motive 
for  the  formation  of  ideas?  Or  what  is  the  virtue  of  form- 
ing ideas  of  things,  different  from  the  things  themselves, 
when  there  is  no  occasion  for  acting  on  the  things?  In  order, 
the  pragmatist  replies,  to  have  a  compact  and  easily  stored 
access  to  these  things;  in  order  to  be  able  to  find,  should 
one  want  them,  more  things  than  there  are  room  for  within  the 
mind  at  any  one  time.  It  follows,  then,  that  the  mark  of  a 
good  idea,  from  this  point  of  view,  is  its  enabling  one  by  means 
of  it  to  come  directly  at  a  large  number  of  particular  facts 
which  it  means.  Verification  is  thus  the  trying  out,  the  demon- 
stration, of  an  idea's  capacity  to  lead  to  its  objects  and  obtain 
their  direct  presentation  to  mind.  Thus  a  is  true  of  b,  in  the 
theoretical  sense,  when  by  virtue  of  having  a  in  mind  I  can 
bring  b  into  mind,  a  being  more  compact  than  b.  And  the 
adequacy  of  a  will  depend  upon  the  extent  to  which  it  puts  me 
in  virtual  possession  of  the  full  or  complete  nature  of  b.  There 
is  always  a  sense  in  which  nothing  can  be  so  true  of  b  as  b  itself, 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  185. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  363 

and  were  it  humanly  possible  to  know  everything  directly  and 
simultaneously,  as  we  know  aspects  of  things  in  sense-percep- 
tion, then  there  would  be  no  occasion  for  the  existence  of  ideas. 
But  then  there  would  be  no  truth,  in  the  particular  sense  in 
which  James  uses  the  term. 

It  is  worth  while  to  observe  that  when  James  defines  truth 
in  terms  of  satisfaction,  he  has  in  mind  a  very  specific  sort 
of  satisfaction,  a  determined  satisfaction,  of  which  the  con- 
ditions are  imposed  on  the  one  hand  by  the  environment, 
and  on  the  other  hand  by  the  interest  which  called  the  idea 
forth.1  This  is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that  an' 
idea  which  is  satisfactory  is  therefore  true.  It  must  be  satis- 
factory for  a  particular  purpose,  and  under  particular  circum- 
stances. An  idea  has  a  certain  work  to  do,  and  it  must  do  that 
work  in  order  to  be  commended  as  true.  There  is  a  situation, 
again  a  special  situation,  in  which  the  general  usefulness  or 
liveableness  of  an  idea  may  be  allowed  to  count  towards  its 
acceptance.  But  the  case  is  exceptional,  and  is  not  neces- 
sarily implied  in  the  pragmatic  theory.  I  have  thought  it  on 
the  whole  clearer  and  fairer,  therefore,  to  consider  it  in  another 
connection.2 

The  pragmatic  theory  of  truth  is  closely  connected  in  the 
author's  mind  with  "  the  pragmatic  method."  It  emphasizes  the 
particular  and  presentable  consequences  of  ideas,  and  is  thus 
opposed  to  verbalism,  to  abstractionism,  to  agnosticism,  and  to 
loose  and  irrelevant  speculation.  But  pragmatism  here  merges 
into  empiricism,  where  the  issues  are  wider  and  more  diverse. 

§  7.  James  was  an  empiricist  in  the  most  general  sense,  in  that  - 
he  insisted  on  the  testing  of  an  idea  by  a  resort  to  that  particular 
...  experience  which  it  means.    An  idea  which  does 

not  relate  to  something  which  may  be  brought 
directly  before  the  same  mind  that  entertains  the  idea,  is  not 
properly  an  idea  at  all;  and  two  ideas  are  different  only  in  so 
far  as  the  things  to  which  they  thus  lead  differ  in  some  particu- 
lar respect.  "The  meaning  of  any  proposition  can  always  be 
brought  down  to  some  particular  consequence  in  our  future 
practical  experience,  whether  passive  or  active  ...  the  point 
lying  rather  in  the  fact  that  the  experience  must  be  particular 

1  Cf.  op.  cit.,  pp.  192  ff. 

»  See  below,  under  "  The  Right  to  Believe,"  pp.  369-371. 


364  APPENDIX 

than  in  the  fact  that  it  must  be  active." l  Similarly,  "  the  whole 
originality  of  pragmatism,  the  whole  point  in  it,  is  its  use  of  the 
concrete  way  of  seeing."  »  Empiricism,  or  pragmatism,  in  this 
sense,  is  essentially  an  application  of  James's  theory  of  the 
function  of  ideas.  Since  it  is  their  office  to  pave  the  way  for 
direct  knowledge,  or  to  be  temporarily  substituted  for  it,  their 
efficiency  is  conditioned  by  their  unobtrusiveness,  by  the  readi- 
ness with  which  they  subordinate  themselves.  The  commonest 
case  of  an  idea  in  James's  sense  is  the  word,  and  the  most 
notable  example  of  his  pragmatic  or  empirical  method  is  his  own 
scrupulous  avoidance  of  verbalism.  It  follows  that  since  ideas 
are  in  and  of  themselves  of  no  cognitive  value,  since  they  are 
essentially  instrumental,  they  are  always  on  trial,  and  "liable 
to  modification  in  the  course  of  future  experience." »  The 
method  of  hypothesis  and  experiment  is  thus  the  method  uni- 
versal, and  the  canon  of  verifiability  applies  to  philosophy  as 
well  as  to  science. 

Empiricism  in  a  narrower  sense  is  the  postulate,"  that  the  only 
things  that  shall  be  debatable  among  philosophers  shall  be  things 
definable  in  terms  drawn  from  experience."  4  We  find  experi- 
ence itself  described  as  "a  process  in  time,  whereby  innumerable 
particular  terms  lapse  and  are  superseded  by  others."  *  This 
cannot  mean  that  experience  is  to  be  identified  with  the  manifold 
of  sense-perception,  for  he  refers  repeatedly  to  "  non-perceptual 
experiences." 6  Nor  can  it  mean  that  experience  is  to  be  identi- 
fied with  the  experienced,  that  is,  with  consciousness.  For  con- 
sciousness, like  matter,  is  a  part  of  experience.  Indeed,  "  there 
is  no  general  stuff  of  which  experience  at  large  is  made."  "  It  is 
made  of  that,  of  just  what  appears,  of  space,  of  intensity,  of  flat- 
ness, brownness,  heaviness,  or  what  not.  .  .  .  Experience  is  only 
a  collective  name  for  all  these  sensible  natures,  and  save  for  time 
and  space  (and,  if  you  like,  for  'being'),  there  appears  no  uni- 
versal element  of  which  all  things  are  made." 7  Experience, 

Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  210. 

Op.  tit.,  p.  216.    For  the  more  popular  exposition  of  this  method,  and 
the  illustrative  application  of  it,  cf.  Pragmatism,  Lectures  II,  III. 
Will  to  Believe,  Preface,  p.  vii. 
Meaning  of  Truth,  Preface,  p.  rii. 
Ibid.,  p.  iii. 

Cf.  "  Does  Consciousness  Exist  ?  "  Essays  in  Radical  Empiricism,  p.  17. 
Ibid.,  pp.  26-27. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM  JAMES  364 

then,  is  a  colorless  name  for  things  in  their  spatial-temporal 
conjunctions.  Things  are  experience  when  these  conjunctions 
are  immediately  present  in  the  mind;  in  other  words,  when  they 
are  directly  known  here  and  now,  or  when  such  a  here-and-now 
knowledge  is  possible.  In  other  words,  we  are  again  brought 
back  to  a  fundamental  insistence  on  direct  or  presentative 
knowledge.  In  respect  of  this  insistence  James  is  a  lineal 
descendant  of  Berkeley,  Hume,  and  Mill,  and  a  brother  of 
Shadworth  Hodgson  and  Ernst  Mach.  In  all  of  these  writers 
the  insistence  on  the  immanence  of  the  object  of  knowledge  has 
tended  to  lead  to  phenomenalism;  and  James,  like  the  rest,  is  a 
phenomenalist,  in  the  sense  of  being  opposed  to  dualism  and 
transcendentalism.  But  in  his  later  writings,  at  least,  he  has 
made  it  perfectly  clear  that  while  things  are  "what  they  are 
known  as,"  they  need  not  be  known  in  order  to  be.  Their  being 
known  is  an  accidental  relation  into  which  they  directly  enter 
as  they  are.1  To  limit  knowledge  to  experience  means  only  to 
limit  it  to  what  may  be  immediately  apprehended  as  here  and 
now,  to  what  may  be  brought  directly  before  the  mind  in  some 
particular  moment  of  its  history. 

James's  empiricism  means,  then,  first,  that  ideas  are  to  be 
tested  by  direct  knowledge,  and  second,  that  knowledge  is  lim- 
ited to  what  can  be  presented.  There  is,  however,  a  third  con- 
sideration which  is  both  an  application  of  these,  and  the  means 
of  avoiding  a  difficulty  which  is  supposed  to  be  fatal  to  them. 
This  is  what  James  calls  "  radical  empiricism,"  the  discovery  that 
"  the  relations  between  things,  conjunctive  as  well  as  disjunctive, 
are  just  as  much  matters  of  direct  particular  experience,  neither 
more  so  nor  less  so,  than  the  things  themselves."  »  "Adjacent 
minima  of  experience"  are  united  by  the  "persistent  identity  of 
certain  units,  or  emphases,  or  points,  or  objects,  or  members  .  .  . 
of  the  experience-continuum."  »  Owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
connections  of  things  are  thus  found  along  with  them,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  introduce  any  substance  below  experience,  or  any 
subject  above,  to  hold  things  together.  In  spite  of  the  atomistic 

1  Cf.  "Does  Consciousness  Exist?"  with  "The  Knowing  of  Things 
Together,"  Psych.  Ret.,  Vol.  II,  1895.  Cf.  also  below,  p.  368. 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  preface,  p.  xii.  Cf.  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  279- 
a8o. 

*  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  326,  356.  Cf.  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  I. 
P-459- 


366  APPENDIX 

sensationalists,  relations  are  found;  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Bradley, 
relations  relate.  And  since  the  same  term  loses  old  relations 
and  acquires  new  ones  without  forfeiting  its  identity,  there  is  no 
reason  why  a  relation  should  not  unite  things  and  still  be  ad- 
ventitious and  variable.  Thus  the  idealistic  theory,  which,  in 
order  that  there  may  be  some  connection,  conceives  of  a  trans- 
experiential  and  immutable  connection,  is  short-circuited.1  This 
handling  of  the  question  of  relation  at  the  same  time  proves 
the  efficacy  of  the  empirical  method,  and  the  futility  of  "intel- 
lectualism." 

§  8.  The  critical  application  of  James's  theory  of  knowledge 
follows  from  his  notion  of  conception  and  its  relation  to  per- 
ception.    "Abstract    concepts    .    .    .    are  salient 
Percepts  and  ..  r  .  .  .  .  _     , 

Concepts.  aspects  of  our  concrete  experiences  which  we  find 
The  Critique  it  useful  to  single  out."  2  He  speaks  of  them  else- 
where  as  things  we  have  learned  to  "cut  out,"  as 
"flowers  gathered,"  and  "moments  dipped  out 
from  the  stream  of  time."  3  Without  doubt,  then,  they  are 
elements  of  the  given  and  independent  world;  not  invented, 
but  selected  —  and  for  some  practical  or  theoretical  purpose. 
To  knowledge  they  owe,  not  their  being  or  their  natures,  but 
their  isolation  or  abstraction  and  the  cognitive  use  to  which  they 
are  put.  This  use  or  function  tends  to  obscure  the  fact  that 
they  are  themselves  "objective."  They  have,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  their  own  "ideal"  relations,  their  own  "lines  of  order," 
which  when  traced  by  thought  become  the  systems  of  logic  and 
mathematics.4 

The  human  importance  of  concepts  and  of  ideal  systems  lies 
in  their  cognitive  function  with  reference  to  the  manifold  of 
sense-perception.  Therefore  it  is  necessary  to  inquire  just 
what  kind  of  a  knowledge  of  the  latter  they  afford.  Since  they 
are  extracts  from  the  same  experience-plenum,  they  may  be, 

1  Cf.  "The  Thing  and  its  Relations,"  in  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  347- 
369,  passim.  Cf.  also  above,  p.  353,  and  below,  pp.  373-374. 

1  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  246. 

8  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  235.  Cf.  Principles  of  Psychology,  on  "Con- 
ception," and  "Reasoning,"  Chapters  XII  and  XXII. 

4  Essays  in  Radical  Empiricism,  pp.  15,  16.  Cf.  Meaning  of  Truth, 
pp.  42,  195,  note;  Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  339-340;  Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, Ch.  XXVIII.  Here  as  elsewhere  of  two  apparently  conflicting 
statements  I  have  taken  the  later.  The  latest  and  best  statement  James's 
view  of  concepts  is  to  be  found  in  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy,  Ch.  IV-VI. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  367 

and  to  a  large  extent  are,  similar  to  their  perceptual  objects. 
But  it  is  never  the  primary  function  of  an  idea  to  picture  its 
object,  and  in  this  case,  at  least,  a  complete  picturing  is  impossi- 
ble. Because,  in  the  first  place,  concepts  are  single  and  partial 
aspects  of  perceptual  things,  and  never  a  thing's  totality. 
Although  conception  exhibits  these  aspects  clearly  one  by  one, 
sense-perception,  apprehending  the  thing  all  at  once,  or  con- 
cretely, will,  in  spite  of  its  inarticulateness,  always  convey  some- 
thing —  it  may  be  only  the  fullness  of  potential  concepts  — 
which  conception  misses.  It  would  follow,  then,  that  a  concept 
is  true  of  a  percept  only  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  those  who  employ 
concepts  are  prone  to  use  them  "privatively/'that  is,  as  though 
they  exhausted  their  perceptual  object  and  prevented  it  from 
being  anything  more.  This  "treating  of  a  name  as  excluding 
from  the  fact  named  what  the  name's  definition  fails  positively 
to  include,"  is  what  James  calls  "vicious  intellectualism."1 

But,  in  the  second  place,  there  is  a  more  specific  reason  why 
concepts  cannot  adequately  express  the  existential  sense-mani- 
fold. Not  only  are  they  unequal  to  it  because  abstracted  from 
it,  but  they  are  necessarily  unlike  it,  in  that  the  most  character- 
istic aspects  of  the  sense-manifold  cannot  be  conveyed  in  con- 
ceptual form.  This  is  the  chief  ground  of  James's  indictment  of 
intellectualism,  and  is  of  critical  importance  to  the  understand- 
ing of  his  philosophy.  It  is  important  once  more  to  note  that 
the  cognitive  use  of  ideas  does  not  depend  upon  their  similarity 
to  their  objects.  They  may  be  abstracted  aspects  of  their 
objects,  or  they  may  be  entirely  extraneous  bits  of  experience, 
like  words,  connected  with  their  objects  only  through  their 
functional  office.  Now  it  is  James's  contention  that  the  most 
characteristic  aspects  of  existence  can  be  ideated  only  in  this 
second  way.  They  cannot  be  abstracted,  they  cannot  them- 
selves become  the  immediate  objects  of  thought,  although  they 
can,  of  course,  be  led  up  to  and  functionally  represented.  Every 
bit  of  experience  has  "its  quality,  its  duration,  its  extension, 
its  intensity,  its  urgency,  its  clearness,  and  many  aspects  besides, 
no  one  of  which  can  exist  in  the  isolation  in  which  our  verbalized 
logic  keeps  it." 2  The  error  of  intellectualism  lies  in  its  attempt 

1  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  60.  Cf.  also  pp.  218  ff.,  and  Meaning  of  Truth, 
pp.  248,  249  ff. 

1  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  256. 


368  APPENDIX 

to  make  up  such  aspects  as  these  out  of  logical  terms  and  rela- 
tions. The  result  is  either  a  ridiculous  over-simplification  of 
existence,  or  the  multiplication  of  paradoxes.  The  continuity 
of  change,  the  union  of  related  things,  the  f  ulness  of  the  existent 
world,  has  to  be  sensed  or  felt,  if  its  genuine  character  is  to  be 
known,  as  truly  as  color  has  to  be  seen  or  music  heard.  So  that, 
so  far  as  these  aspects  of  existence  are  concerned,  concepts  are 
useful  for  "  purposes  of  practice,"  that  is,  to  guide  us  to  the 
sensible  context,  and  not  for  "  purposes  of  insight." 1 

"Direct  acquaintance  and  conceptual  knowledge  are  thus 
complementary  of  each  other;  each  remedies  the  other's 
defects."2  Knowing  is  always  in  the  last  analysis  witnessing 
—  having  the  thing  itself  within  the  mind.  This  is  the  only  way 
in  which  the  proper  nature,  the  original  and  intrinsic  character, 
of  things,  is  revealed.  Thought  itself  is  the  means  of  thus 
directly  envisaging  some  aspects  of  things.  But  owing  to  the 
peculiar  conditions  under  which  the  mind  operates,  it  is  practi- 
cally necessary  to  know  most  things  indirectly.  So  thought  has 
a  second  use,  namely,  to  provide  substitutes  for  aspects  of  things 
that  can  be  known  directly  only  by  sense.  The  peculiar  value 
of  thought  lies,  then,  in  its  direct  grasp  of  the  more  universal 
elements,  and  in  the  range  and  economy  of  its  indirect  grasp  of 
those  elements  which,  in  their  native  quality,  can  be  directly 
grasped  only  by  sense. 

Knowledge  in  all  its  varieties  and  developments  arises  from 
practical  needs.  It  takes  place  within  an  environment  to  whose 
independent  nature  it  must  conform.  If  that  environment  be 
regarded  as  something  believed,  then  it  signifies  truth  already 
arrived  at  obediently  to  the  same  practical  motives.  But  if  it 
be  conceived  simply  as  reality,  as  it  must  also  be  conceived,  then 
it  is  prior  to  all  knowledge,  and  in  no  sense  involved  in  the 
vicissitudes  of  knowledge.  In  short,  James's  theory  is  epis- 
temology  in  the  limited  sense.  It  describes  knowledge  without 
implying  any  dependence  of  things  on  the  knowing  of  them. 
Indeed,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  based  explicitly  on  the  acceptance 
of  that  non-mental  world-order  which  is  recognized  by  common 
sense,  by  science,  and  by  philosophical  realism.1 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  290.    Cf.  Lectures  V,  VI,  and  VII,  passim. 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  251. 

*  Cf.  Meaning  of  Truth,  Preface,  and  pp.  190-197,  212-216. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  WILLIAM  JAMES  369 

HI.  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION 

§  9.  James's  contribution  to  the  study  of  religion  is  so  consid- 
erable and  so  important  as  to  stand  by  itself,  beside  his  psychol- 
ogy and  his  philosophy.  In  the  present  meagre 
to  Believe1  summary  I  shall  deal  only  with  what  is  directly 
related  to  the  fundamentals  of  his  philosophy, 
namely,  to  his  theory  of  mind  and  his  epistemology.  Religion, 
like  knowledge,  is  a  reaction  of  man  to  his  environment.  Its 
motives  are  practical,  and  its  issues,  tests,  and  successes  are  prac- 
tical. Religion  is  "  a  man's  total  reaction  upon  life."  It  springs 
from  "that  curious  sense  of  the  whole  residual  cosmos  as  an 
everlasting  presence,  intimate  or  alien,  terrible  or  amusing, 
lovable  or  odious." l  The  positive  or  hopeful  religion  says  "  that 
the  best  things  are  the  more  eternal  things,"  and  "that  we  are 
better  off  even  now  "  if  we  believe  so.1  There  is  a  practical 
motive  leading  to  some  such  belief,  and  there  is  an  additional 
motive  for  taking  the  hopeful  rather  than  the  despairing  view. 
Applying  the  theory  of  truth  already  expounded,  it  follows  that 
that  religious  belief  is  true  which  satisfies  the  demands  which 
give  it  birth.  So  far  this  might  mean  simply  that  it  is  important 
for  life  to  have  an  idea  of  the  ultimate  nature  of  things,  and  as 
hopeful  an  idea  as  possible;  in  which  case  the  true  religion  would 
be  the  idea  which  succeeded  in  meeting  these  requirements.  It 
would  be  the  verified  hypothesis  concerning  the  maximum  of 
hopefulness  which  the  universe  justifies.  But  the  case  is  not  so 
simple  as  that.  For  no  idea  of  the  ultimate  nature  of  things 
can  be  verified,  that  is,  proved  by  following  it  into  the  direct 
presence  of  its  object.  'And  meanwhile  it  is  practically  necessary 
to  adopt  some  such  idea.  So  the  question  arises  as  to  whether 
the  general  acceptability  of  an  idea,  including  its  service  to 
other  interests  than  the  theoretical  interest,  may  in  this  case  be 
allowed  to  count.  To  accept  an  idea,  or  to  believe  under  such 
conditions  and  on  such  grounds,  is  an  act  of  faith.  What,  then, 
is  the  justification  of  faith? 

Faith  does  not  mean  a  defiance  of  proof  but  only  a  second  best, 
a  substitute  where  the  evidence  is  not  conclusive.  "Faith 

1  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  35.    In  the  "Varieties"  the  topic 
is  circumscribed  for  the  sake  of  convenience;  cf.  p.  31. 
•  Witt  to  Believe,  pp.  25,  26. 

25 


370  APPENDIX 

means  belief  in  something  concerning  which  doubt  is  still  theo- 
retically possible;  and  as  the  test  of  belief  is  willingness  to  act, 
one  may  say  that  faith  is  the  readiness  to  act  in  a  cause  the 
prosperous  issue  of  which  is  not  certified  to  us  in  advance."  l  If 
it  can  be  certified  in  advance,  so  much  the  better;  but  if  not, 
then  it  may  be  proper  to  act  confidently  none  the  less.  Now 
such  is  the  case,  first  when  hesitation  or  suspension  of  action  is 
equivalent  to  disbelief  in  a  prosperous  issue.  Thus,  "if  I  must 
not  believe  that  the  world  is  divine,  I  can  only  express  that 
refusal  by  declining  ever  to  act  distinctively  as  if  it  were  so, 
which  can  only  mean  acting  on  certain  critical  occasions  as  if  it 
were  not  so,  or  in  an  irreligious  way." 2  "  Logical  scrupulosity  " 
may  thus  over-reach  itself,  and  lead  one  to  a  virtual  denial  even 
in  the  face  of  probability.  In  the  second  place,  there  are  "cases 
where  faith  creates  its  own  verification."  Belief  in  the  success 
of  an  enterprise  in  which  the  believer  is  himself  engaged  breeds 
the  confidence  which  will  help  to  make  success.  And  religion  is 
such  an  enterprise.  "Believe,  and  you  shall  be  right,  for  you 
shall  save  yourself." » 

In  short,  "there  is  really  no  scientific  or  other  method  by 
which  men  can  steer  safely  between  the  two  opposite  dangers 
of  believing  too  little  or  of  believing  too  much."4  We  can 
neither  limit  belief  to  proof,  for  that  would  be  to  cut  ourselves 
off  from  possibilities  of  truth  that  have  a  momentous  importance 
for  us;  nor  exempt  our  belief  altogether  from  criticism,  for  that 
would  be  to  forfeit  our  principal  means  to  truth.  There  are 
genuine  "  options  "  for  belief,  options  that  are  "  live  "  in  that  there 
is  an  incentive  to  choose;  and  "forced,"  in  that  to  decline  to 
choose  is  still  virtually  to  choose.6  Where  such  an  option  exists, 
hope  may  be  allowed  to  convert  objective  or  theoretical  proba- 
bility into  subjective  certainty.  And  the  one  momentous  case 
of  this  is  religion. 

§  10.  That  religious  belief  which  is  at  once  most  probable 
on  theoretical  grounds,  and  most  rational  in  the  broader  sense 
of  making  a  "direct  appeal  to  all  those  powers  of  our  nature 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  90;  cf.  p.  i;  and  Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  256. 
1  Will  to  Believe,  p.  55. 
«  Op.  cit.,  p.  97. 
4  Op.  cit.,  p.  xi.    Cf.  p.  128. 

6  Op.  cit.,  p.  3.  Cf.  Some  Problems  of  Philosophy,  Appendix,  on  "Faith 
and  the  Right  to  Believe." 


PHILOSOPHY  OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  371 

which  we  hold  in  highest  esteem,"1  is  theism.    God  is  con- 
ceived as  "the  deepest  power  in  the  universe,"  and  a  power 

not  ourselves,  "which  not  only  makes  for  right- 
fnd  Theism"  eousness>  Dut  means  it,  and  which  recognizes  us."1 

"To  cooperate  with  his  creation  by  the  best  and 
rightest  response  seems  all  He  wants  of  us." 3  Such  an  interpre- 
tation of  the  world  most  completely  answers  our  needs.  "At  a 
single  stroke,  it  changes  the  dead  blank  it  of  the  world  into  a 
living  thou,  with  whom  the  whole  man  may  have  dealings." 
"Our  volitional  nature  must,  then,  until  the  end  of  time,  exert 
a  constant  pressure  upon  the  other  departments  of  the  mind  to 
induce  them  to  function  to  theistic  conclusions." 4  Here,  then, 
is  the  possible  and  the  profoundly  desirable  religious  truth.  To 
neglect  it  is  to  disbelieve  it,  which  is  equally  arbitrary,  and  in- 
volves all  the  practical  loss  besides;  while  to  accept  it  is  to 
help  make  it  true,  since  human  efforts  may  assist  in  establishing 
the  supremacy  of  the  good.  But  what  evidence  may  be  adduced 
in  its  support? 

The  answer  to  this  question  consists  partly  in  the  removal  of 
difficulties,  such  as  the  dogmatism  of  science,  and  the  problem 
of  "the  compounding  of  consciousness,"6  partly  in  the  applica- 
tion to  the  religious  experience  of  the  theory  of  a  "subconscious 
self."  "We  have  in  the  fact  that  the  conscious  person  is  continu- 
ous with  a  wider  self  through  which  saving  experiences  come,  a 
positive  content  of  religious  experience  which,  it  seems  to  me, 
is  literally  and  objectively  true  as  far  as  it  goes." 6  When  we 
ask  "  how  far  our  transmarginal  consciousness  carries  us  if  we 
follow  it  on  its  remoter  side,"  our  "  over-beliefs  begin; "  but  the 
evidence  afforded  by  mystical  experiences,  thus  construed  by 
means  of  an  established  psychological  theory,  creates  "a 
decidedly  formidable  probability"  in  favor  of  the  theistic 
hypothesis.7 

|  IX.  The  belief  in  freedom,  like  the  belief  in  God,  cannot  be 
proved.  Here,  again,  belief  has  an  option  between  a  rigidly 
determined  world  and  a  world  with  alternative  possibilities 

1  Op.  tit.,  p.  no.    Cf.  pp.  115-116. 
1  Op.  cit.,  p.  122.  3  Op.  tit.,  p.  141. 

4  Op.  tit.,  p.  127.  *  Cf.  above,  pp.  353-354- 

•  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  515.  Cf.  also  "The  Energies  of 
Men,"  Memories  and  Studies,  X. 

1  Op.  tit.,  p.  513;  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  309. 


372  APPENDIX 

in  it.  Determinism  "professes  that  those  parts  of  the  uni- 
verse already  laid  down  absolutely  appoint  and  decree  what 
The  Dilemma  the  other  parts  shall  be."1  Indeterminism,  on  the 
of  Deter-  other  hand,  means  that  several  futures  are  really 
possible,  in  the  sense  of  being  compatible  with  the 
same  past.  After  the  fact  the  one  sequel  is  as  reasonable  as  the 
other,  and  the  fact  itself  throws  no  light  on  the  question  whether 
"  another  thing  might  or  might  not  have  happened  in  its  place." 2 
For  this  reason,  the  facts  themselves  can  neither  establish  deter- 
minism nor  disprove  it.  And  since  the  facts  are  not  decisive, 
man  is  warranted  in  taking  into  account  the  grave  practical 
issues  that  are  at  stake.  If  the  hypothesis  of  freedom  be 
true,  it  relieves  man  from  what  would  otherwise  be  an  in- 
tolerable situation;  and  if  he  fails  to  accept  the  hypothesis 
because  his  doubts  are  not  entirely  dispelled,  he  virtually 
chooses  the  alternative  which  is  worse  without  being  any  more 
probable. 

From  a  moral  or  religious  point  of  view  a  determined  world  is 
a  world  in  which  evil  is  not  only  a  fact,  as  it  must  be  on  any 
hypothesis,  but  a  necessity.  "Calling  a  thing  bad  means,  if  it 
mean  anything  at  all,  that  the  thing  ought  not  to  be,  that  some- 
thing else  ought  to  be  in  its  stead.  Determinism,  in  denying 
that  anything  else  can  be  in  its  stead,  virtually  defines  the 
universe  as  a  place  in  which  what  ought  to  be  is  impossible,  —  in 
other  words,  as  an  organism  whose  constitution  is  afflicted  with 
an  incurable  taint,  an  irremediable  flaw."3  In  such  a  universe 
there  are  only  two  religious  alternatives,  despair  or  renunciation 
— a  hopeless  complaint  that  such  a  world  should  be,  or  the  culti- 
vation of  a  subjective  willingness  that  anything  should  be.  To 
adopt  the  latter  alternative,  or  "  gnosticism,"  as  the  only  course 
that  will  bring  peace  of  mind,  is  "to  abandon  the  judgment  of 
regret,"  and  substitute  an  intellectual,  sentimental,  or  sensual 
condoning  of  evil  for  the  healthy  moral  effort  to  eradicate  it.4 
Indeterminism,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  doctrine  of  promise  and 
relief.*  It  offers  me  "a  world  with  a  chance  in  it  of  being  alto- 
gether good; "  an  escape  from  evil  "by  dropping  it  out  altogether, 

1  "Dilemma  of  Determinism,"  in  Will  to  Believe,  p.  150;  cf.  passim. 
1  Op.  cit.,  p.  152.     Cf.  pp.  146,  156. 
1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  161-162. 
4  Op.  cit.,  pp.  162  ff. 
1  Pragmatism,  pp.  119  ff. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  373 

throwing  it  overboard  and  getting  beyond  it,  helping  to  make  a 
universe  that  shall  forget  its  very  place  and  name."  l 

Although  the  belief  in  freedom  is  in  the  end  an  act  of  faith, 
there  is  evidence  for  its  possibility  or  even  probability.  Freedom 
is  not  incompatible  with  any  uniformity  that  has  been  dis- 
covered, but  only  with  the  dogma  that  uniformity  must  be 
absolute  even  if  it  has  not  been  found  to  be  so.  If  there  be  any 
real  novelty  in  the  world,  any  respects  in  which  the  future  is  not 
merely  an  unfolding  of  the  past,  then  that  is  enough  to  leaven 
the  whole.  In  the  case  of  freedom  of  the  will  all  that  is  required 
is  "the  character  of  novelty  in  activity-situations."  The  " ef- 
fort" or  activity-process  is  the  form  of  a  whole  "field  of  con- 
sciousness,"2 and  all  that  is  necessary  for  freedom  is  that  the 
duration  and  intensity  of  this  process  should  not  be  "  fixed 
functions  of  the  object."1  That  the  experience  of  activity 
should  contribute  something  wholly  new  when  it  arises,  is  not 
only  consistent  with  the  facts  ascertained  by  psychology,  but 
is  also  in  keeping  with  the  general  principles  of  radical  empir- 
icism. Old  terms  may  enter  into  new  relations;  the  unity  of 
the  world  is  not  over-arching  and  static,  but  a  continuity  from 
next  to  next,  permitting  of  unlimited  change  without  discon- 
nection and  disorder.  Indeterminism  is  thus  no  more  than  is 
to  be  looked  for  in  a  pluralistic  universe. 

§  12.  Pluralism  is  essentially  no  more  than  the  denial  of  abso- 
lute monism.  "Absolute  unity  brooks  no  degrees";  whereas 
pluralism  demands  no  more  than  that  "you  grant 

Pluralism  and  ,«  ,1  •  • 

Moralism  some  separation  among  things,  some  tremor  of 
independence,  some  free  play  of  parts  on  one 
another,  some  real  novelty  or  chance,  however  minute."* 
And  pluralism  in  this  sense  follows  directly  from  James's 
theory  of  knowledge.  In  the  first  place,  absolute  monism 
loses  its  authority  the  moment  its  a  priori  necessity  is 
disproved.  To  account  for  knowledge  empirically  is  to  render  all 
this  elaborate  speculative  construction  unnecessary.  As  a 
hypothesis  it  is  not  wholly  out  of  the  question,*  but  it  will  not 
bear  comparison  with  pluralism  for  intellectual  economy,  and 

Op.  cit.,  p.  297;  Witt  to  Believe,  p.  178,  and  pp.  173  ff. 
Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  391,  note.     Cf.  above,  pp.  354-356. 
Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  p.  571.    Cf.  pp.  569-579,  passim. 
Pragmatism,  p.  160.     Cf.  Lecture  IV,  passim. 
Will  to  Believe,  p.  vii;  Pluralistic  Universe,  p.  292. 


374  APPENDIX 

it  brings  a  number  of  artificial  difficulties  in  its  train.1  Second, 
there  is  positive  evidence  for  the  pluralistic  hypothesis  in  the 
fact  of  "  external  relations."  "It  is  just  because  so  many  of  the 
conjunctions  of  experience  seem  so  external  that  a  philosophy  of 
pure  experience  must  tend  to  pluralism  in  its  ontology."  Rela- 
tions may  be  arranged  according  to  their  relatively  conjunctive 
or  disjunctive  character:  "confluence,"  "  conterminousness," 
"contiguousness,"  "likeness,"  "nearness"  or  "simultaneous- 
ness,"  "in-ness,"  "on-ness,"  "for-ness,"  "with-ness,"  and 
finally  mere  "and-ness."  With  its  parts  thus  related  the 
universe  has  still  enough  unity  to  serve  as  a  topic  of  dis- 
course, but  it  is  a  unity  of  "concatenation,"  rather  than  of 
"  co-implication."  * 

The  importance  of  such  a  conclusion  for  religious  purposes  is 
apparent.  On  the  one  hand,  as  we  have  already  seen,  evil  is 
not  necessarily  implied  by  the  rest  of  the  universe,  so  that  the 
universe  as  a  whole  is  not  compromised  or  irremediably  vitiated 
by  it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  good 
is  in  a  like  position.  The  supremacy  of  the  good  is  not  guaran- 
teed, but  is  only  made  possible,  and  is  thrown  into  the  future  as 
a  goal  of  endeavor.  Pluralism  "has  no  saving  message  for 
incurably  sick  souls."3  It  is  no  philosophy  for  the  "tender- 
minded;"  it  makes  life  worth  living  only  for  those  in  whom  the 
fighting  spirit  is  alive.4  In  the  Introduction  to  the  Literary 
Remains  of  his  father,  James  distinguished  between  the  religious 
demand  for  an  ultimate  well-being,  and  that  healthy-minded 
moralism  in  which  "the  life  we  then  feel  tingling  through  us 
vouches  sufficiently  for  itself,  and  nothing  tempts  us  to  refer  it 
to  a  higher  source." 6  It  is  this  note  which  dominates  James's 
philosophy  of  life.  It  accounts  for  his  relatively  slight  interest 
in  immortality.6  He  did  not  feel  the  necessity  of  being  assured 
in  advance  of  his  own  personal  safety.  With  his  characteristic 
tenderness  of  mind  where  the  interests  of  others  were  in  question, 

Meaning  of  Truth,  pp.  125  sq. 

Pluralistic  Universe,  pp.  321,  325;  359,  361.  Cf.  Lecture  VIII,  and 
Appendix  A,  passim.  Cf.  also  above,  p.  353. 

Meaning  of  Truth,  p.  228. 

Cf.  Pragmatism,  Lecture  I,  and  "Is  Life  Worth  Living?"  in  Witt  to 
Believe. 

Literary  Remains  of  Henry  James,  pp.  116-117. 

Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  524;  Human  Immortality,  p.  3. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM   JAMES  375 

he  sympathized  deeply  with  the  more  importunate  and  helpless 
cravings  of  the  religious  spirit.  But  for  himself,  he  was 
"willing  to  take  the  universe  to  be  really  dangerous  and  adven- 
turous, without  therefore  backing  out  and  crying  'no  play.'"1 
"The  essence  of  good  is  simply  to  satisfy  demand."  But  the 
tragic  fact  is,  that  demands  conflict,  and  exceed  the  supply. 
Though  God  be  there  as  "  one  of  the  claimants,"  lending  perspec- 
tive and  hopefulness  to  life,  the  victory  is  not  yet  won.  If  we 
have  the  courage  to  accept  this  doubtful  and  perilous  situation 
as  it  is,  "there  is  but  one  unconditional  commandment,  which 
is  that  we  should  seek  incessantly,  with  fear  and  trembling,  so 
to  vote  and  to  act  as  to  bring  about  the  very  largest  total  universe 
of  good  which  we  can  see."  2 

IV.  CONCLUSION 

These,  I  believe,  are  the  bare  essentials  of  James's  philosophy, 
and  the  thread  of  reasoning  by  which  they  are  connected.  A 
summary  such  as  this  must  altogether  miss  the  pictorial  and 
dramatic  quality  of  his  thought.  That  which  is  most  character- 
istic of  him  cannot  be  restated;  for  his  own  style  was  its  inevi- 
table and  only  adequate  expression.  But  I  offer  this  rude 
sketch  in  the  hope  that  it  may  help  those  who  seek  to  apprehend 
this  philosophy  as  a  whole.  James's  field  of  study,  the  pano- 
ramic view  within  which  all  of  his  special  problems  fell,  was  the 
lot  of  mankind.  On  the  one  hand  stands  the  environment,  an 
unbidden  presence,  tolerating  only  what  will  conform  to  it, 
threatening  and  hampering  every  interest,  and  yielding  only 
reluctantly  and  gradually  to  moral  endeavor.  On  the  other 
hand  stands  man  who,  once  he  gets  on  good  terms  with  this 
environment,  finds  it  an  inexhausible  mine  of  possibilities.  "By 
slowly  cumulative  strokes  of  choice,"  he  has  extricated  out  of 
this,  like  a  sculptor,  the  world  he  lives  in.  James  never  confused 
the  world  with  man's  world,  but  he  made  man's  world,  thus 
progressively  achieved,  the  principal  object  of  his  study.  Man 
conquers  his  world  first  by  knowing  it,  and  thus  presenting  it 
for  action;  second,  by  acting  on  it,  and  thus  remoulding  it  to 
suit  his  purposes.  But  these  operations  are  the  inseparable 

1  Pragmatism,  p.  296. 

1  "The  Moral  Philosopher  and  the  Moral  Life,"  in  Will  to  Believe,  pp. 
aoi,  212,  209,  and  passim. 


376  APPENDIX 

parts  of  one  activity  through  which  a  humanized  and  moralized 
world  is  developed  out  of  the  aboriginal  potentialities.  So 
philosophy  becomes  the  study  of  man  as  he  works  out  his  salva- 
tion. What  is  his  endowment  and  capacity?  How  does  his 
knowing  take  place,  and  what  are  the  marks  of  its  success? 
What  forms  does  reality  assume  as  it  passes  through  the 
medium  of  the  human  mind?  What  are  the  goods  which 
man  seeks  ?  What  are  the  grounds,  and  what  is  the  justifica- 
tion, of  his  belief  in  ultimate  success? 

The  characteristics  of  James's  mind  were  intimately  connected 
with  his  conception  of  the  mission  of  philosophy.  He  was  dis- 
tinguished by  his  extraordinary  sense  for  reality.  He  had  a 
courageous  desire  to  know  the  worst,  to  banish  illusions,  to  take 
lif  e  at  its  word,  and  accept  its  challenge.  He  had  an  unparalleled 
capacity  for  apprehending  things  in  their  human  aspect,  as  they 
fill  the  mind,  and  are  assimilated  to  life.  So  indefatigable  was 
his  patience  in  observing  these  conjunctions  and  transitions  in 
their  rich  detail,  that  few  of  his  critics  have  had  patience  enough 
even  to  follow  his  lead.  True  to  his  empirical  ideals,  he  aban- 
doned the  easier  and  more  high-handed  philosophy  of  abstrac- 
tions for  the  more  difficult  and  less  conclusive  philosophy  of 
concrete  particulars.  And  finally,  he  had  a  sure  instinct  for 
humanly  interesting  and  humanly  important  problems.  He 
sought  to  answer  for  men  the  questions  the  exigencies  of  life  led 
them  to  ask.  And  where  no  certain  answer  was  to  be  had,  since 
men  must  needs  live  notwithstanding,  he  offered  the  prop  of 
faith.  Making  no  pretence  of  certainty  where  he  found  the 
evidence  inconclusive,  he  felt  the  common  human  need  of  forg- 
ing ahead  even  though  the  light  be  dim.  Thus  his  philosophy 
was  his  way  of  bringing  men  to  the  wisest  belief  which  in  their 
half-darkness  they  can  achieve.  He  was  the  frank  partizan  of 
mankind,  undeceiving  them  when  necessary,  but  giving  them 
the  benefit  of  every  doubt. 

To  attribute  James's  power  to  his  genius  is  as  much  as  to  say 
that  it  escapes  analysis.  He  was  felt  in  his  time  as  an  original 
intellectual  and  spiritual  force,  that  can  no  more  be  divided  and 
inventoried  than  his  philosophy  can  be  distributed  among  the 
hackneyed  classifications  of  the  schools.  It  is  easy  to  say  that 
he  owed  much  to  his  style;  but  it  is  plain  that  his  style  owed 
everything  to  him.  He  was,  it  is  true,  a  lover  of  form,  endowed 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   WILLIAM  JAMES  377 

with  the  finest  sensibilities,  and  stirred  by  the  creative  impulse; 
but  his  style  was  always  his  instrument.  He  found  it  above  all 
a  means  of  communication;  for  nothing  was  more  notable  about 
him  than  the  social  quality  of  his  thought.  He  wrote  for  his 
readers,  his  vivid  imagination  of  their  presence  guiding  him 
infallibly  to  the  centre  of  their  minds.  And  his  style  was  also 
the  means  of  faithfully  representing  his  experience.  It  was 
figurative  and  pictorial,  because  the  world  he  saw  was  a  proces- 
sion of  concrete  happenings,  abounding  in  novelty  and  unique- 
ness. For  his  originality  lay,  not  in  his  invention,  but  in  the 
extraordinary  freshness  of  his  perception,  and  in  an  imagination 
which  was  freed  from  convention  only  to  yield  itself  utterly  to 
the  primeval  and  native  quality  of  the  world  as  he  found  it.  His 
thought  was  always  of  the  actual  world  spread  before  him,  of 
what  he  called  "the  particular  facts  of  life."  He  relied  little 
on  dialectic,  but  brought  his  powers  of  observation  into  play 
where  the  traditional  philosophy  had  abstracted  the  problem 
and  carried  it  off  into  the  closet.  And  to  this  first-hand  acquaint- 
ance with  particulars  he  added  a  keen  zest  for  metaphysical 
speculation.  He  was  curious,  as  the  natural  man  is  curious, 
loving  the  adventure  of  exploration,  and  preferring  the  larger  rid- 
dles of  existence  to  the  purely  technical  problems  of  the  schools. 

His  resources  were  by  no  means  limited  to  the  results  of  his 
own  observation.  He  probably  read  more  widely  than  any 
philosopher  of  his  day.  He  did  not,  however,  value  erudition 
for  its  own  sake,  but  only  as  a  means  of  getting  light.  His 
reading  was  always  selective  and  assimilative;  he  converted  it 
at  once  into  intellectual  tissue,  so  that  it  gave  him  strength  and 
buoyancy  and  never  merely  a  burden  to  carry.  And  he  learned 
from  men  as  well  as  from  books.  Always  governed  by  his  lik- 
ings rather  than  his  aversions,  generous  and  open-hearted,  men 
who  shrank  from  others  gave  their  unsuspected  best  to  him. 
In  short,  his  mind  was  instinctively  discriminating.  He  not  only 
knew  the  good  from  the  evil,  but  he  was  guided  by  a  remark- 
ably independent  judgment  of  proportion.  He  was  never  led  to 
accept  a  thing  as  important  simply  because  it  had  acquired  a 
certain  professional  or  academic  prominence;  and  he  was  rarely 
imposed  on  by  the  respectable  humbug,  though  he  opened  his 
mind  to  whatever  was  humanly  significant,  even  though  it 
might  be  socially  disreputable. 


378  APPENDIX 

It  is  impossible  to  divorce  his  intellectual  gifts  from  his  char- 
acter. His  openmindedness,  which  has  become  proverbial,  was 
only  one  of  many  signs  of  his  fundamental  truthfulness.  Having 
no  pride  of  opinion,  and  setting  little  store  by  his  personal  pres- 
tige, his  mind  remained  flexible  and  hospitable  to  the  end.  His 
very  modesty  and  guilelessness  were  sources  of  power.  For  his 
modesty  was  not  a  form  of  self-consciousness,  but  a  preoccu- 
pation with  things  or  persons  other  than  himself.  And  his 
guilelessness  was  not  a  childlike  naivete,  but  a  sincerity  and 
openness  of  motive.  He  was  possessed  of  a  certain  shrewdness 
and  directness — an  ability  to  come  to  the  heart  of  affairs  at  a 
stroke  —  that  made  him  the  wisest  of  counselors.  But  he  had 
no  ambitions  which  he  attempted  to  conceal,  and  no  preroga- 
tives of  which  he  was  jealous;  so  that  he  met  his  students  and 
his  friends  with  a  natural  simplicity  and  an  entirely  uncalcu- 
lating  indifference  to  distinctions  of  social  eminence.  He  proved 
the  possibility  of  possessing  taste  and  personal  distinction  with- 
out pride  or  aloofness.  And  his  democracy  was  a  matter  of 
conviction,  as  well  as  of  impulse.  He  believed  heartily  in  the 
institutions  of  his  country,  and  shared  those  hopes  of  freedom, 
peace,  and  happiness,  which  unite  men  and  nerve  them  to  take 
part  in  the  work  of  civilization. 

James  did  not  found  a  school.  He  was  incapable  of  that 
patient  brooding  upon  the  academic  nest  that  is  necessary  for 
the  hatching  of  disciples.  The  number  of  those  who  borrowed 
his  ideas  is  small  and  insignificant  beside  the  number  of  those 
that  through  him  were  brought  to  have  ideas  of  their  own.  His 
greatness  as  a  teacher  lay  in  his  implanting  and  fostering  of  intel- 
lectual independence.  He  prized  his  own  university  for  its 
individualism  and  tolerance,  and  for  the  freedom  which  it  gave 
him  to  subordinate  the  scholastic  office  and  the  scholastic  method 
to  a  larger  human  service.  So  the  circle  of  his  influence  widened 
to  the  bounds  of  European  civilization;  while  his  versatility, 
his  liberal  sympathies,  the  coincidence  of  his  ruling  passions 
with  the  deeper  interests  of  mankind  at  large,  and  above  all  the 
profound  goodness  of  his  heart,  so  diversified  and  humanized 
this  influence  that  there  were  few  indeed  too  orthodox  or  too 
odd  to  respond  to  it. 


INDEX 


ABSOLUTISM,  ch.  viii;  general  mean- 
ing of,  164  ff.;  and  pragmatism, 
198.  (See  also  under  MIND.) 

ACCELERATION,  56  ff. 

ACQUAINTANCE,  225,  310,  354,  366 

ACTIVITY,  70,  71,  99,  137,  261  ff., 
279  ff.,  341,  354  ff.,  373 

AGNOSTICISM,  150,  152,  174 

ANALYSIS,  55,  60  ff.,  83,  233,  236  ff., 
256 

AVENARIUS,  299 

BACON,  5,  6,  23,  33 

BAILLIE,  J.  B.,  133 

BELIEF,  and  Theory,  ch.  i,  2643., 
345  ff.,  369  ff.;  definition  of,  7  ff., 
326;  solidarity  of,  ioff.;  con- 
servatism of,  1 8  ff. 

BERGSON,  H.,  50,  74,  223,  224,  229 
ff.,  238  ff.,  251,  255  ff.,  261  ff.,  2995. 

BERKELEY,  122  ff.,  135  ff.,  171,  280 

BODY,  properties  of,  51  ff.;  feeling 
of,  283  ff.,  292  ff.  (See  also  under 
PHYSICAL  REALITY.) 

BOUTROUX,  E.,  36 

BRADLEY,  F.  H.,  101,  133, 149, 150, 
157,  177,  181,  214,  280 

BROWNE,  Sir  Thomas,  19 

BUCHNER,  68  ff. 

CAIRD,  E.,  149, 156 

CASSIRER,  E.,  146 

CATEGORIES,  the,  139  ff.,  149, 158  ff. 

CAUSALITY,  99  ff.,  355;  moral,  341  ff. 

CIVILIZATION,  4,  47,  188,  268,  328, 

343 

CHESTERTON,  G.  K.,  9 
CHRISTIANITY,  5,  14,  31 


COMMON  SENSE,  48  ff. 

COMTE,  37 

CONCEPTS,  scientific,  56  ff.;  analyt- 
ical version  of,  60  ff.,  63,  75; 
critique  of,  227  ff.,  256  ff.,  365  ff. 

CONSCIOUSNESS,  alleged  priority  of, 
105  ff.,  126  ff.,  156  ff.,  218  ff., 
315  ff.;  and  experience,  155,  314  ff. 
(See  also  under  MIND.) 

CONTINUITY,  103  ff.,  233 

DEISTS,  33 

DESCARTES,  16  ff.,  32,  33,  120  ff., 

309 

DESCRIPTION,  and  Explanation,  53, 
99  ff.;  conditions  of,  54  ff.;  96  ff.; 
disparagement  of,  93  ff.,  99  ff. 

DESIRE,  295,  331  ff. 

DEWEY,  J.,  202,  211,  225,  226,  239, 
313,  3iS 

DlLTHEY  W.,  I$3 

DlONYSIUS  THE  AREOPAGITE,  170 

DOGMATISM,  171  ff.,  183  ff. 
DUALISM,  119  ff.,  122  ff.,  136, 308  ff., 
357 

EGO-CENTRIC  PREDICAMENT,  argu- 
ment from  the,  1293.,  133,  158, 
217,271,317,318 

EHRENFELS,  C.  v.,  339 

EMPIRICISM,  242  ff.,  363  ff. 

ENERGY,  58  ff. 

EPISTEMOLOGY.    (See  KNOWLEDGE.) 

EQUIVOCATION,  169  ff.,  180  ff. 

ERROR,  204,  323  ff. 

ETHICS,  145,  192,  331  ff.  (See  also 
under  MORALITY,  VALUE,  GOOD, 
RIGHT.) 


379 


380 


INDEX 


EUCKEN,  R.,  113,  153,  IS4 

EVIL,  problem  of,  183,  246  ff.,  372 

EWALD,  O.,  153 

EXCLUSIVE    PARTICULARITY,    error 

of,  128,  138,  271,  286,  309,  342 
EXPERIENCE,  155,  314  ff.,  353,  363, 

364  ff- 

EXPERIMENTALISM,  79  ff . 

EXPLANATION.  (See  under  DE- 
SCRIPTION.) 

FAITH.    (See  BELIE*.) 
FICHTE,  144,  151 
FORCE,  68,  69,  70  ff.,  72 
FORMALISM,  166  ff.,  175  ff. 
FREEDOM,  253,  254,  261  ff.,  343  ff., 

373.     (See  also  under  INDETER- 

MINISM.) 
FREIBURG  SCHOOL,  145 

GALILEO,  12  ff.,  56  ff. 

GOD,  conception  of,  33,  37,  120, 
191  ff.,  248,  262,  371.  (See  also 
under  MIND,  the  universal.) 

GOOD,  31,  114,  167,  169  ff.,  182, 
246  ff.,  331  ff.,  375 

GREEN,  T.  H.,  149,  ^57,  3'8 

HAECKEL,  E.,  72  ff. 
HEGEL,  144,  148  ff.,  177,  189 
HEINE,  179 
HOBBES,  117 
HOBHOUSE,  L.  T.,  189  ff. 
HUME,  34,  37,  99,  136  ff.,  197,  280, 
306  ff. 

HUNTINGTON,  E.  V.,  98 

HUXLEY,  T.  H.,  105 
HYPOTHESIS,  98 

IDEALISM,  cardinal  principle  of,  38, 
105,  ch.  vi,  154  ff.;  and  religion, 
38,  107,  190  ff.;  Platonic,  114  ff.; 
modern,  117  ff.;  proofs  of,  126  ff., 
156  ff.,  315  ff.;  objective  or  trans- 
cendental, ch.  vii;  empirical,  142; 
metaphysical,  143,  144,  148  ff.; 
critical,  144  ff.;  intellectualistic, 
144,  146,  148  ff.,  177;  voluntaris- 
tic,  144,  146,  150  ff.,  161,  178, 


198;  absolute,  ch.  viii,  325;  and 
civilization,  i88ff.;  and  prag- 
matism, 2175.,  239,  247;  and 
ethics,  338 

IDEAS,  137,  200  ff.,  226,  231,  265, 
327,  35i>  357  ff-,  363;  agreement 
of,  358;  intention  of,  358.  (See 
also  under  MIND,  as  content,  and 
KNOWLEDGE.) 

IMMANENCE,  theory  of,  306  ff. 

IMMEDIACY,  224  ff.,  237,  359 

IMMEDIATISM  vs.  intellectualism.  ch. 
x;  and  subjectivism,  239;  and 
realism,  240 

IMMORTALITY,  191,  374 

INDEFINITE  POTENTIALITY,  66  ff.,  75 

INDEPENDENCE,  theory  of,  308, 
3i3  ff-,  33i  ff-,  335  ff- 

INDETERMINISM,  371  ff.;  pluralism 
and,  249,  253;  and  time,  250  ff.; 
and  intellectualism,  254  ff. 

INFINITY,  103  ff. 

INITIAL  PREDICATION,  definition  by, 
126  ff.,  133,  158,  217,  271,  317 

INTELLECTUALISM,  222;  critique  of, 
ch.  x,  366  ff.;  'vicious,'  228  ff. 
234  ff.,  367;  and  indeterminism, 
254  ff.  (See  also  under  IDEAL- 
ISM.) 

INTEREST,  300  ff.,  333,  342,  351 

INTROSPECTION,  273,  275  ff.,  288 

JAMES,  W.,  9,  197,  206,  207,  209, 
210,  214,  215,  224,  226,  233,  240, 
244,  248,  249,  253,  263,  265,  266, 
278,  284,  312,  344;  philosophy  of, 
Appendix;  theory  of  mind  of, 
349  ff . ;  theory  of  knowledge  of, 
356  ff.;  theory  of  truth  of,  360  ff.; 
philosophy  of  religion  of,  369  ff . 

JOACHIM,  H.  H.,  150,  155,  175,  184, 
186,  325 

JONES,  H.,  190,  191 

KANT,  34,    37,    118,    136,    139  ff., 

142  ff.,  175,  280,  338 
KNOWLEDGE,  value  of,  4  ff.,  329  ff., 

368;  theory  of,  119  ff.,  187;  prag- 


INDEX 


381 


matic  theory  of,  ch.  ix,  242  ff., 
356  ff.;  realistic  theory  of,  ch.  xiii; 
mediate,  200  ff.,  226,  231,  314  ff., 
351.  (See  also  under  IMMEDIACY, 
IDEAS,  INTELLECTUALISM,  MEAN- 
ING, REPRESENTATION.) 


MORALITY,  333  ff. 

MOTOR  THEORY,  of  consciousness, 
298  ff. 

MUNSTERBERG,  H.,  90,  178  ff.,  l8l, 

191,  280,  299,  335 
MYSTICISM,  170,  182 


LAW,  55,  too,  255,  341 

LE  ROY,  E.,  80,  82,  230 

LIFE,  197,  238,  262,  341;  realistic 

philosophy  of,  ch.  xiv 
LOCKE,  33,  120  ff.,  142 
LOGIC,  82  ff.,  145  ff.,  166,  175,  180, 

192, 199,  234  ff.,  259, 310,  319, 367 
LYMAN,  E.  W.,  191 

MCDOUGALL,  W.,  298 

MACH,  E.,  78  ff.,  298,  310 

MCTAGGART,  J.  M.  E.,  157,  177, 
183,  191 

MARBURG  SCHOOL,  145 

MASS,  57  ff. 

MATERIALISM,  68  ff.  (See  also  un- 
der NATURALISM.) 

MATHEMATICS,  82  ff.,  116,  319 

MEANING,  201  ff.,  278,  358,  363 

MECHANISM,  s6ff.,io8, 116, 198,344 

MEMORY,  294 

MIND,  78,  79;  as  substance,  136; 
and  body,  283  ff.,  292  ff.,  298  ff., 
303,  308  ff.;  the  universal  or  ab- 
solute, 140,  143,  144,  148,  180, 
183,  185;  as  action  of  subject,  254, 
274,  279  ff.,  297  ff.;  realistic  theory 
of,  ch.  xii;  definition  of,  303  ff., 
322;  as  content,  274,  275  ff., 
286  ff. ;  relational  theory  of,  277  ff., 
320,  352  ff.;  as  interest,  300  ff., 
350  ff.;  evolution  of,  304;  the  ani- 
mal, 302;  the  individual,  353 

MIRACLES,  88 

MONISM,  of  matter,  68  ff.;  of  force, 
70  ff.;  of  substance,  72  ff.;  episte- 
mological,  124  ff.,  308;  absolutism 
and,  166,  245,  373 

MONTAGUE,  W.  P.,  316^ 

MOORE,  A.  W.,  209,  218 

MOORE,  G.  E.,  321  ff.,  331  ff. 


NATORP,  P.,  145,  279 

NATURALISM,  definition  of,  38, 45  ff.; 
naive,  63,  64,  68  ff.;  critical,  63, 
75  ff.;  and  religion,  74,  ch.  v,  345 
ff.;  and  pragmatism,  39,  198, 
219;  and  realism  39 

NATURE,  the  knowledge  of,  120, 122. 
(See  also  under  NATURALISM  and 
SCIENCE.) 

NECESSITY,  140, 160 

OPTIMISM,  344 
OSTWALD,  W.,  75 

PANPSYCHISM,  74,  315 

PAPINI,  G.,  230,  264 

PEARSON,  K.,  76  ff. 

PERCEPTION,  205  ff.,  226,  289  ff., 
299.  359,  3°6,  307,  365  ff. 

PHENOMENALISM,  365 

PHILOSOPHY,  and  belief,  4,  21  ff.; 
and  science,  ch.  ii;  and  religion, 
ch.  ii,  85  ff.;  theoretical,  29,  40, 
107,  154,3295. 

PHYSICAL  WORLD,  275,  308  ff.,  353. 
(See  also  under  BODY.) 

PLATO,  31,  114  ff.,  1675.,  171  ff. 

PLURALISM,  242  ff.,  371  ff.;  and  em- 
piricism, 242  ff.;  and  external  rela- 
tions, 244  ff.;  and  religion,  246  ff.; 
and  indeterminism,  249,  253,  344 

POINCARE,  H.,  79  ff. 

POSITIVISM,  38 

PRAGMATISM,  definition  of,  39, 
197  ff.,  267,  363,  364;  theory  of 
knowledge  of,  ch.  ix,  231,  323; 
and  naturalism,  39,  198,  219; 
and  realism,  213  ff.;  and  idealism, 
217  ff.,  239,  247;  and  empiricism, 
242  ff.;  and  religion,  246  ff.,  264  ff. 
(See  also  under  JAMES,  W.) 


382 


INDEX 


PROGRESS,  4ff.,  12,  189,  345 
PROPRIO-CEPTIVE  SENSATIONS,  292  ff. 
PSEUDO-SIMPLICITY,  65  ff.,  75,  237  ff., 

263,  271,  280  ff.,  336 
PSYCHOLOGISM,  146,  199 
PSYCHOLOGY,  273,  302, 308,  351 


RASHDALL,  H.,  286 

RATIONALISM,  1 14  ff . 

REALISM,  definition  of,  39;  the  new, 
306  ff.,  313;  and  theoretical  phi- 
losophy, 40,  3292-,  345,  argu- 
ments for,  315  ff.;  and  idealism, 
142,  163,  272;  and  pragmatism, 
213  ff.,  240,  272;  theory  of  mind 
of,  ch.  xii;  as  a  polemic,  271;  and 
naturalism,  39,  272;  philosophy  of 
life  of,  ch.  xiv;  and  religion,  344  ff. 

REID,  T.,  307,  316 

RELATION,  101  ff.,  157,  234,  308, 
353,  365;  external,  2445.,  319  ff., 
353,  374 

RELATIVISM,  78,  132,  138,  335 

RELIGION  and  philosophy,  ch.  ii, 
and  belief,  28  ff.,  2645.,  345  ff., 
367  ff.;  definition  of,  28,  369;  jus- 
tification of,  340,  344  ff.;  and 
science,  30  ff.,  35,  858.,  and 
idealism,  38,  107;  and  absolutism, 
ch.  viii;  and  pragmatism,  246  ff., 
2643.,  3695.;  and  pluralism, 
246  ff.,  373;  and  realism,  344  ff. 

REPRESENTATION,  201,  311  ff.,  357. 
(See  also  under  IDEAS.) 

REY,  A.,  35 

RICKERT,  H.,  161,  163,  314 

RIGHTNESS,  217,  327,  333  ff. 

RlTSCHLIANISM,  340 

ROMANTICISM,  37  ff.,  152  ff.,  330 
ROYCE,  J.,  161,  175,  1845.,  191 
RUSSELL,   B.,   51,  315,  318,   325, 
331  ff.,  345  ff- 


SATISFACTION,  217 
SCEPTICISM,  136  ff. 
SHERRINGTON,  C.  S.,  292 
SCHILLER,  F.  C.  S.,  90,  98,  210,  211, 


215  ff.,  218,  219,  248,  251,  254, 
261,  266 

SCHMIDT,  K.,  98 

SCIENCE  and  philosophy,  ch.  ii;  and 
theory,  25  ff.;  definition  of,  25  ff.; 
and  religion,  30  ff.,  35,  85  ff.;  lim- 
its of,  ch.  v;  fallibility  of,  91  ff.; 
scope  and  method  of,  ch.  iii; 
prestige  of,  46  ff . ;  and  common 
sense,  48  ff.;  and  naturalism,  45  ff. 

SECONDARY  QUALITIES,  324 

SELF,  156,  261,  281  ff.  (See  also 
under  MIND.) 

SENSATION,  319,  351 

SENSATIONALISM,  76  ff. 

SOLIPSISM,  317 

SPACE,  reality  of,  xooff.,  105,  257; 
infinity  of,  103  ff. 

SPECULATIVE  DOGMA,  the,  64  ff., 
165,  271 

SPENCER,  H.,  37,  70  ff.,  350 

SPINOZA,  33,  n6ff.,  168,  1725. 

SPIRIT,  153.    (See  also  under  MIND.) 

STEPHEN,  L.,  6,  7 

SUBJECTIVISM,  132,  317,  327;  ideal- 
istic escape  from,  162  ff.,  318;  and 
pragmatism,  2i7ff.;  and  imme- 
diatism,  239 

SUBJECTIVITY,  323  ff. 

SUBSTANCE,  66,  72  ff.,  75,  125,  168, 
3°8 

SUPERNATURALISM,  88  ff. 

SYNTHETIC  UNITY,  139  ff.,  150, 
156  ff.,  317 


TAYLOR,  A.  E.,  101, 102 
TELEOLOGY,  115,  172,  341  ff. 
THEORY   and   belief,  ch.  i,  2645., 

329  ff.;  definition  of,  8ff.,  206  ff., 

212,  361  ff.;  and  science,  25  ff. 
THING  IN  ITSELF,  311 
THOUGHT,  160,  297,  317.     (See  also 

under       KNOWLEDGE,       MIND, 

IDEAS.) 
TIME,  reality  of,  100  ff.,  105,  230, 

235,    250  ff.,    255  ff.;   infinity  of, 

103  ff. 
TRANSCENDENCE,  311  ff.,  314 


INDEX  383 

TRUTH,  184,  202  ff.,  265  ff.,  323  ff.,  VOLUNTARISM,  198,  222.    (See  also 
360  ff.  under  IDEALISM.) 

VALUE,  180,  331  ff.,  absoluteness  of;  WARD,  J.,  91  ff.,  94  ff. 

335  ff.;  realization  of,  339  ff.;  as  WASHBURN,  M.  F.,  286,  302,  303 

cause,  341  ff.  WENLEY,  R.  M.,  90,  191 

VERBAL  SUGGESTION,  75,  170,  181,  WESTERMARCK,  336 

271  WILL,  178  ff. 

VERIFICATION,  205  ff.,  265  ff.,  362,  WOODBRIDGE,  F.  J.  E.,  277,  278 

370  WORDS,  function  of,  290 


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